


Mine & Yours

by JamieJam93



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, I'm tagging it to be safe, M/M, Mpreg, Slut Shaming, Verbal Abuse, borderline physical abuse maybe?, hints of abandonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:50:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5049271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieJam93/pseuds/JamieJam93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt one of my friends gave me! She wanted a Larry mpreg in which Louis is Harry's housekeeper and they never really communicate much until one night where they sleep together and Louis gets pregnant. Harry gets jealous and won't believe the baby is his and turns on him. (She really wanted ass hole Harry.) SPOILER ALERT! (It has a happy ending though.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine & Yours

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written or read an mpreg before, so for the sake of me being lazy (and because this fic is already much too long) we're going to pretend it is a totally normal and natural thing that happens all the time, as well as natural male birthing. I'm sorry if this isn't how mpreg usually works but that's how it's working for this story!

            Louis heard the car pull up in the driveway-twenty minutes earlier than scheduled-and swung himself off the couch, rushing to the mirror to make sure his appearance was decent before hurrying outside, smile on his face as he caught the first glimpse of his boss- famous and obscenely rich singer Harry Styles, that he’d had in person in three weeks. He didn’t really know why he was so excited. Whether Harry was on tour or at home really made no difference. He didn’t pay attention to Louis anyway and even when he was gone, Louis found himself making sure the house was spotless and the meals for the day planned out; just in case Harry made a surprise stop at home or one of his friends came to check up on the place. It hadn’t happened yet, but if it did, at least Louis would be prepared.

            “Good afternoon, Mr. Styles!” Louis called out in the sweetest voice he could manage without sounding fake, even though it _wasn’t_ fake. Harry just brought out that side of him, though Louis had yet to really figure out why.

            “Oh. Hi,” Harry replied unenthusiastically after giving Louis the once-over, as if he had to remind himself of who he was.

            “How was the end of tour?” Louis asked politely, even though he was genuinely curious.

            “Fine,” Harry replied, handing over a couple of his bags to Louis. Getting the hint, Louis held back his sigh and entered the house, carrying the luggage upstairs to the singer’s bedroom and beginning to unpack for him. This was Louis’s life, and sometimes he wished there was more to it, but he quickly banished those thoughts from his mind when they occurred. He liked Harry, and he didn’t think he was truly the way he usually acted; cold and distant, with an ego the size of California, where they lived. After all, he’d let Louis move in after hiring him as a housekeeper two years ago and, okay, he’d gotten some extra duties on top of that such as cooking, financing, shopping and…well…everything else, but that was all right. He was living in the guy’s house for free, and getting paid, albeit underpaid, admittedly, and Louis was grateful.

            When Harry entered his room, final bag in hand, to find the others already emptied and being put away, he was clearly surprised. Louis smiled.

            “I’ll get that for you,” he offered, reaching out for the tote in Harry’s hand.

            “Oh, thanks,” Harry said, handing it over, and, hey, receiving a ‘thank you’ was something that didn’t happen very often, so Louis took it with pride.

            “Would you like me to make you anything to eat?” Louis asked as he flitted around the room putting things in order as Harry stood there watching awkwardly.

            “Yeah, that sounds good,” Harry agreed.

            “What would you like?”

            “Surprise me.”

            Louis hated when Harry gave him that freedom, terrified that it was some sort of test and that if he didn’t make the right thing, he would be fired. He obviously wasn’t going to voice that fear, though, so after all of Harry’s belongings were back in place, he went to the kitchen and gathered the ingredients he would need for pasta primavera; something healthy and filling that he knew wouldn’t take too long to make. He didn’t know whether it was a good choice or not-Harry didn’t say-but at least he didn’t complain.

            “Do you need anything else?” Louis asked once his boss was seated with his food and drink in front of him.

            “No,” the singer answered, not looking at Louis as he took his first bite. His expression remained neutral, and Louis swallowed nervously.

            “All right. Enjoy,” he said before exiting the dining area. He would eat later. He never ate with Harry, not wanting to make a nuisance of himself or imply that they had anything but a strict boss/employee relationship.

            Even if Louis hoped that, one day, that would change.

***

            The next couple of weeks passed as they always did when Harry was home. The men barely spoke twenty words a day to each other and, unless it was a meal time, Louis barely even saw his boss. It was nice, he guessed, that the guy trusted him to do his job without breathing down his neck. Still, Louis thought it would be nice, sometimes, to just talk about how their days were or what was going on in their lives; even the most mundane details.

            But, again, he wasn’t complaining.

            Like most jobs, Louis was given two days off a week, as well as holidays. Luckily for him, his birthday fell on a holiday-Christmas Eve, to be exact-and so he always had his birthday off. Unluckily, he rarely did anything on his birthday, as his friends either traveled to visit family or had family staying with them. Sometimes Louis would go celebrate early, but that year, he didn’t even bother. He hadn’t been able to find a good day to do it, and hadn’t really been all that into it anyway. What really was there to celebrate? He was twenty-four years old and working for a guy more than two years younger than him, and far more successful. His family had either passed on or lived far away, and he had yet to make one of his own (and at this rate, he probably never would.) Louis wasn’t feeling sorry for himself, really, but he wasn’t under the illusion that his life was exciting. It wasn’t even meaningful, if he was being honest.

            So Louis was going to spend his birthday in bed, watching TV, and he was perfectly fine with that. Maybe he wouldn’t even get dressed that day!

            Except that he lived with Harry, and on the off chance that he might run into him in the hallway or something, he didn’t really want to be in his pajamas, so that idea was down the drain.

            By evening, Louis had begun to think he dressed for no reason, as he hadn’t even gotten a hint that Harry was alive and kicking, and he was quite bitter at the unnecessary task he’d performed. Finally, once five thirty rolled around, Louis decided that he would order some Chinese and ask Harry if he wanted any. If not, it was pajama time for him. If so…

            Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

            Flipping off his television, Louis threw himself off his bed and hurried to the door, throwing it open and jumping back in surprise to find his boss standing there. Harry was clearly startled too and froze, the fist that was about to knock on Louis’s door frozen in mid-air.

            “Oh,” Harry said after a moment (where Louis may or may not have been gaping at him).

            “Sorry,” Louis said as the other lowered his fist.

            “That’s all right,” Harry said. A moment of awkward silence passed. Louis bounced on the balls of his feet.

            “Happy birthday,” Harry spoke again and, wait, how did he know? It had been on Louis’s employment application, of course, but he doubted Harry had really paid attention to that. A Christmas Eve birthday wasn’t that hard to remember, however, Louis supposed, and, besides, maybe Harry remembered waking up on Christmas Day last year, when he had actually celebrated, to a shirtless Louis passed out at the top of the stairwell. That hadn’t been Louis’s finest hour, and he was grateful that he still had a home and a job after he nearly vomited on Harry whilst the man had been kindly carrying him to bed. No word had ever been spoken of it.

            “Thank you,” Louis said to Harry, who nodded, but stayed silent for another minute. It was Louis who spoke up first, actually.

            “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I was getting ready to get Chinese. Do you want any? My treat.”

            “It’s your birthday,” Harry said slowly.

            “Yeah?”

            “You shouldn’t be buying people food.”

            “It’s just another day, Harry. Er…sorry, Mr. Styles.”

            Harry studied Louis for an uncomfortable amount of time before, again, speaking.

            “It will be my treat instead. Would you care to order though?”

            Louis blinked in confusion because surely Harry wasn’t actually offering to buy him dinner, was he? Technically, Harry bought Louis’s dinner every night, as he supplied the money for the food Louis cooked, but this was different. It was just Chinese food, Louis told himself, and it didn’t mean anything, as much Louis wanted it to.

            “Okay, maybe not,” Harry said and began to turn around when Louis snapped back to reality, realizing he’d simply been staring at Harry as if he were from another planet or something. (That was often how Louis thought of Harry, to be honest.)

            “No, wait,” Louis said quickly, reaching out to touch Harry and withdrawing his hand at the last second. Harry turned anyway. “Sorry,” Louis added. “Just…dinner is fine. I mean, what you said is…fine…yeah.”

            Heat rose to Louis’s cheeks. Harry looked mildly amused.

            “What would you like me to order you, sir?” Louis asked.

***

            “Are you going out tonight?” Harry asked once their food had arrived and they’d seated themselves cross-legged on Louis’s floor in front of the television to eat, per Harry’s suggestion.

            “Doubt it,” Louis answered, using his chopsticks to put a fair amount of Lo Mein noodles into his mouth.

            “Hm. I guess I don’t have to worry about you passing out in strange places this year then,” Harry teased.

            “I don’t know. Chinese food sometimes does strange things to me,” Louis said with a wink. Harry almost smiled.

            “On second thought…,” the singer began before trailing off.

            “Yes?” the other prodded.

            “I’ll be back,” Harry announced, setting his food container on the ground before promptly exiting the room. Shrugging to himself, Louis kept eating.

            It wasn’t too long before Harry returned, an unopened bottle of champagne and two glasses in hand.

            “Really?” Louis asked.

            “Why not?”

            Harry popped the top off and then poured the pair of them a glass each, taking a sip before Louis allowed himself to do the same with his own. This was clearly expensive stuff. This night could be interesting.

            “You have to make me a promise,” Louis spoke when half of his glass was gone.

            “Oh?” Harry asked, eyebrow quirked as he took another bite of his meal.

            “If I get drunk and do something stupid, you have to take full responsibility and not fire me.”

            Harry huffed and smirked-his version of a laugh and smile, Louis thought-and also gave a slight head shake, though he said,

            “It would take a lot for me to fire you, Louis.”

            Louis swore he was only hot from the alcohol.

***

            After dinner; full of energy from being pent up doing nothing all day, Louis and Harry decided it would be a great idea to go to Harry’s home bowling alley-which Louis had never seen used, by the way- and play a couple nice, friendly games, which of course meant very unfriendly games that barely resembled bowling.

            “Can you even lift that ball?” Harry had teased when Louis chose the prettiest ball, which just so happened to be an eight pounder, to play with, and Louis must have been drunk because he found it appropriate to respond with,

            “I am tough, thank you. It’s you I’m worried about, since you pay people, A.K.A. me, to do everything but wipe your ass for you.”

            “It’s on,” Harry had said.

***

            “NO!” Louis screamed in devastation while Harry literally fell off his seat cackling when Louis’s ball stopped on the lane, right in front of the main pin. “Fuck this!” Louis went on before venturing off down the lane, having to concentrate extremely hard so as not to fall and crack his head open or something.

            “Cheater!” Harry called. Louis responded by turning and flipping Harry off with both fingers. Perhaps he should have had him pinky promise their earlier agreement instead of just acknowledging it verbally, Louis thought, but it was too late for that then.

            His karma was delivered to him when he turned and fell straight on his back anyway.

            To Louis’s surprise, Harry’s laughter died immediately and he gasped (or maybe that part was Louis getting the wind knocked out of him.)

            “Louis!” Harry cried, running the best he could to Louis, but falling to his knees as soon as he reached the alley and crawling instead. Soon, Louis saw Harry’s (admittedly beautiful) face peering down on him, and was that worry written there? Perhaps…

            “Louis, are you okay?” Harry asked.

            “I meant to do that,” Louis insisted, not moving. Harry half smiled.

            “Bull shit. You’re a proper klutz, aren’t you?”

            “Excuse me, but you fell too.”

            “Yes, but I’m proper drunk.”

            “Well that makes two of us.”

            As Louis sat up, Harry leaned back, but stayed close enough so that their knees were touching.

            “You’re very pretty, Louis,” Harry said.

            “I know,” Louis said, and Harry actually snorted.

            “Wow. Conceited much?”

            “Yes.”

            “That’s okay. It’s hot.”

            “I know.”

            “Shut up.”

            “Nah, I don’t think I will. I know you secretly want to hear my lovely voice go on forever and ever.”

            “You’re gross.”

            “Grossly cute.”

            “You’re fired.”

            “That’s not funny,” Louis said, taking his hands and pushing Harry’s cheeks together like a fish.

            “I know because I was serious,” Harry said, trying to look serious with his fish cheeks.

            “You promised.”

            “Those words actually never left my mouth.”

            Louis glared, or tried to when he couldn’t even keep his eyeballs steady.

            “I hate you,” he said.

            “You can keep your job on one condition,” Harry allowed.

            “What?” Louis asked, making sure he sounded stubborn and not desperate.

            “Give me a kiss.”

            “That is blackmail and sexual harassment in the workplace. I could sue you,” Louis informed him.

            “You could,” Harry agreed. “Or you could kiss me.”

            _Who says I want to,_ Louis wanted to retort, but he didn’t because he _did_ want to kiss Harry and was afraid that if he stalled just to win a fake argument, the opportunity would be gone. So without another word, he leaned forward and clumsily crashed their lips together. Apparently Harry wasn’t expecting their conversation to be over that quickly because he made a small sound of surprise before he began kissing back. Louis wasn’t sure who slipped in the tongue first (though thought it was Harry), but soon, both of their tongues were involved. Also soon, Louis was right on his backside again, this time with Harry on top of him, the singer’s hand traveling from the other’s waist down to his thigh and then in between his legs.

            “Mmm,” Louis whined, nearly biting Harry’s tongue as he twitched. He could literally feel Harry smirk against his lips.

            “Was that a good jump?” he asked, voice deeper and gruffer than usual.

            “Maybe,” Louis replied, and his voice was higher than normal. How unfair was _that_?!

            “Hmm…,” Harry murmured, hand traveling until he found what he was looking for. “Yeah. It was a good jump.”

            “You’re not seriously going to fuck me on the bowling alley?” Louis asked as Harry began to unzip his pants for him.

            “Want to go to bed?” Harry asked in Louis’s ear. His hot breath hit Louis’s neck.

            “As long as we go to yours.”

            Ever the gentleman (or at least for that night), Harry carried Louis bridle-style to his bedroom, trying to kiss him as they walked, though that didn’t go so well and he stopped that once they almost toppled down the stairs and Louis screamed in his ear. That was super funny to them, and they were still giggling as Harry laid Louis onto the bed and began kissing him again.

            But soon, Louis’s pants were off and suddenly it wasn’t a laughing matter anymore.

            “Condom?” Louis asked breathlessly.

            “I’m safe,” Harry replied. “Are you?”

            “Yeah, but what about, you know, pregnancy?”

            “You won’t get pregnant, Louis, and neither will I.”

            They could, Louis knew, but, really, it was probably pretty unlikely. This was going to be a one night stand, he was sure of it, and how many people really got pregnant from one night stands?

            Besides, everyone had that one person they would do almost anything to be with, and Harry Styles was his, so if it meant forgoing the rubber for just one night then so be it.

***

            Louis felt a mixture of things when he woke up. Firstly, his head hurt. That wasn’t pleasant, but then he remembered why it hurt and he felt elated, smiling into Harry’s pillow that he’d slept on the previous night and smelling the sweet smell of the other man.

            Well, normally the smell was sweet, but that morning, it made him want to gag. _Note to self, Chinese food and champagne is a terrible combination._

            Seeming to read his mind, Harry groaned from beside him.

            “I feel like shit,” he announced.

            “Was it worth it though?” Louis asked, and then panicked. What they’d done the previous night had been totally inappropriate given the status of their relationship. He should have left afterwards, in the least. It didn’t matter that he’d tried and been stopped by Harry rolling over, putting his arms around his middle and whispering a simple, “Stay.” Louis should have left anyway. He’d clearly been more sober than Harry and now his boss was waking up and there was no way Louis could get away.

            He needn’t have worried, however, for Harry opened one eye, gave a typical Harry smile and said, “Totally worth it,” before running a long, slender finger up and down Louis’s arm, seeming to lull himself back to sleep for just a couple of minutes.

            “Oh, happy Christmas,” he said as he came to again, withdrawing his hand from Louis to run it though his curls as he sat up.

            “Happy Christmas,” Louis said back, also sitting up and stretching his arms out in front of him.

            “I have something for you,” Harry said, getting out of bed slowly and going over to his dresser to pull out a check. “Christmas bonus,” he explained.

            “Um, I can’t accept this,” Louis said as Harry attempted to hand it over.

            “Why not?” Harry asked, frowning. “You deserve it. You kept me very organized and well-fed this year.”

            “Thanks, but it’s just…after last night…”

            Louis trailed off and Harry raised an eyebrow.

            “Are you quitting now?” the singer asked, crossing his arms over his chest, frown still on his face.

            “No! No, nothing like that. It’s just that, taking that…after what we did last night…it feels weird.”

            Harry’s eyebrow rose yet again, this time in amusement.

            “I’m not paying you for the sex, Louis,” he said. “You were getting this regardless.”

            Louis stared, hesitant, before finally taking the check. He sure hadn’t gotten a bonus last year. What happened?

            “Thanks,” Louis said awkwardly despite his confusion.

            “You’re welcome.”

            “Do you want breakfast?”

            “It’s a holiday. You’re not working today.”

            “I know, but I’m afraid that I might be sick all over the place if I don’t get some greasy food into me soon, and I thought you might be in the same boat.”

            “Grease sounds delightful,” Harry agreed.

            After eating a typical hangover breakfast of eggs and bacon, the boys curled up on the couch to watch some Christmas specials on television. Since neither had any family or significant others visiting, they had all day to just themselves, and they spent it together too, only separating to shower and use the bathroom. Louis wanted to get hopeful-maybe Harry saw something in him besides an employee after all-but he wouldn’t let himself do that. It was the day after their rendezvous, and they were both lonely, which was worse on holidays, so that was the only reason for Harry’s strange behavior. Everything would be back to normal soon, he was sure of it.

            For the most part, he was correct. Harry left a grocery list and some cash for him on the table the next day. Louis went after making the other’s breakfast and then cleaned some until lunch. He finished cleaning shortly before dinner. The only times he saw his boss were when he went to get him for meals and barely five words were spoken, though Harry was thanking him a lot more that day.

            “Do you need anything else?” Louis asked his typical question to the other man once his dinner had been served to him.

            “I’m fine, thank you,” Harry replied.

            “All right.”

            Louis turned to leave, as per usual, but Harry’s voice stopped him.

            “Louis?”

            “Yes?” Louis asked, turning around politely.

            “Why don’t you ever eat with me?”

            That hadn’t been what Louis had expected to come out of his mouth and he ran it over a few times in his mind just to be sure he had heard correctly.

            “I didn’t think you wanted me to,” he finally admitted.

            “Sit,” Harry insisted, gesturing to the chair in front of him. Well, Harry was the boss, so, obediently, Louis took a seat.

            “Don’t you want to get some food first?” Harry asked, his eyebrow up. He was laughing at Louis internally, he just knew it.

            “Oh, yes. Right,” Louis said, standing and going to the kitchen to make himself a plate before going in and sitting down again.

            “How has your day been?” Harry asked pleasantly as the two began eating.

            “Fine,” Louis answered. “Um…how was yours?”

            “Fine,” Harry replied, then, “You don’t need to feel so awkward around me, Louis. Unless…do you regret what happened?”

            “No…no!” Louis replied, shaking his head too, for good measure. “It’s not that.”

            “Then what’s the matter?”

            “Nothing, really.”

            Looking genuinely concerned, Harry set down his fork and folded his hands in front of him. “Please explain what you mean.”

            “It’s just that you’re, like, talking to me and….stuff.”

            “And that’s awkward?” Harry asked. “I would think _not_ speaking after the other night would be more awkward.”

            “No, it’s great, I’m just…confused. I don’t know where this is going.”

            Harry stared at Louis, seemingly in deep concentration for a while before he spoke again.

            “Would you do me the honor of going out to dinner with me tomorrow, Louis?”

            “What?” Louis replied intelligibly. “Like… _out_ out?”

            “Well, yes, of course. I think you’ve seen by now that I don’t cook and it would be terribly rude of me to expect my date to cook our meal.”

            “Date?”

            Louis was doing a really great job of showcasing why he’d been out of work for two months before Harry finally hired him. And why, to this day, he was still single.

            “Yes. I would like to go on a date with you tomorrow night. Would you like that too?”

            “Yes.”

            That answer came too fast.

            “I mean, yeah, sounds cool.”

            Louis needed to just bang his head into a wall to shut himself up.

            “Wonderful,” Harry replied, smiling almost like a normal person would. Louis took a drink so he wouldn’t split his own face.

            The rest of the dinner was spent in silence, but it was suddenly a lot less awkward. Louis still cleaned up afterwards, and before vanishing back up to his cave, Harry told Louis that he would pick him up at six thirty the next day. Louis was unsure how he was going to pick him up when they lived together, but guessed he would see.

            That, he did, indeed.

            Louis had worked that day, paying bills and such, but when he went back to his room after the chores were done, he saw an outfit lying out on his bed. On top of the clothes lay a note that read,

            _We’re going to a fancier restaurant, so if you have nothing else to wear, I have this for you. Please let me know if you do not like it or if it is the wrong size-H_

 _Right_ , Louis thought with a small laugh, _If I don’t like it_. What wasn’t there to like about an expensive black jacket over an expensive blue shirt and tight expensive black pants? Oh, and don’t forget the expensive dress boots and pricey watch. Louis didn’t even usually like watches, but he loved this one. His wrist, he felt, was unusually thin for a man’s and watches looked ridiculous on it, but this one was thin enough-the face small-so it looked nice. It looked great.

            Louis kind of hated Harry.

            But he loved the outfit, so he was going to wear it anyway. Somehow, it fit even better than his normal clothes that he went out and bought. Harry Styles was a mystery.

            At precisely twenty-five after six, Louis heard the doorbell ring. Answering the door was, of course, his duty, so, hoping whoever it was made it quick, he hurried downstairs and flung open the front door, startling when he saw Harry standing there, dressed just as expensively as Louis was-but not more so.

            “Good evening,” Harry said, face a lot softer than normal as he took in Louis’s appearance.

            “Hi,” Louis said.

            “Are you ready to go?”

            “Yeah.”

            “You look amazing.”

            “Thank you, though I think that’s all because of you.”

            “No,” Harry disagreed. “You always look amazing.”

            Louis’s cheeks burned. He hoped it wasn’t noticeable.

            “Well, thank you for the outfit anyway. I love it.”

            “Good. I’m so glad. Now, which car would you like to take tonight?”

            “You want me to pick?”

            “Of course.”

            Without hesitation, Louis chose the blue mustang because why wouldn’t he? The ride to the restaurant was pretty quiet, but Louis didn’t mind. He was soaking up the experience of riding in an expensive car with a celebrity. Sure, he lived with said celebrity, but that was for work. This was all for fun.

            One thing Louis had not prepared himself for was the paparazzi. There weren’t too many at that moment, but he still hadn’t expected to get out of the car and have a flash of light go off in his face.

            “Sorry,” Harry apologized, going around the car to walk with Louis, which made the flashes worse. “I tried to throw them off my trail tonight, but this is still kind of a celebrity hot spot, so a few mingle around the area. I should have warned you.”

            “It’s fine,” Louis said, blinking against the light. He was going to look real attractive in these pictures, he thought sarcastically. Harry, on the other hand, was a pro; facial expression remaining neutral, even though several different voices were shouting at him. Louis couldn’t understand everything they were saying, but he gathered enough to know that they were asking about him; who he was and if he and Harry were serious. Harry answered not a single question.

            “I’m really sorry,” he apologized again once inside the restaurant, where the paparazzi weren’t allowed to follow. “Are you all right?”

            “I may have a migraine later, but for now, I am fine,” Louis replied. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed in something that almost looked like concern.

            “I hope you don’t,” he said.

            “Eh, don’t worry about it.”

            Harry’s expression hinted that he was going to, indeed, worry about it, but he didn’t have a chance to confirm or deny this.

            “Good evening, Mr. Styles,” the hostess greeted. “Just two tonight?”

            “Yes, please, Clara.”

            “Great! We just had a spot open up. Follow me, please.”

            Clara led the way and Harry followed, Louis trailing behind him, moving a bit slower as he looked around in amazement. Was this a restaurant or a ballroom? He wasn’t quite sure.

            “Sorry,” Louis apologized, a bit embarrassed, when he realized the other two had made it to the table ahead and were standing, waiting patiently, for him to catch up.

            “Not a problem,” Clara assured him as Harry gave Louis that amused smirk that he was becoming quite familiar with. “Your server will be right with you,” the hostess continued once Louis had sat, Harry following suit, and their menus were placed in front of them. The men thanked her and opened their menus as she walked away, Louis’s mouth falling open almost instantly as a strange, unidentifiable noise made its way from his throat.

            “Is everything okay?” Harry asked his date.

            “Who pays this much for food?!” Louis wondered aloud.

            “It is a bit pricey, but it’s worth it,” Harry assured him. “Don’t worry about it anyway. Get whatever you want.”

            “You are going to regret saying that,” Louis said, and the other man gave a small laugh.

            “Am I embarrassing you?” Louis asked, suddenly nervous.

            “Not at all,” Harry replied. “I think you’re adorable.”

            “ _Adorable_?!”

            “Amongst other things.”

            As they waited to be served, Louis and Harry had actual, legitimate conversation. They talked about Harry’s plans for his new album and, upon request, Harry told some stories about different celebrities he’d met and the better parties and awards events he’d been to. All Louis really had to say about himself was that he’d moved to California in the hopes of becoming famous for _something._ In other words, he was a cliché, and a failed one at that.

            “Have you ever had an agent?” Harry questioned, seeming genuinely interested in Louis’s sad, boring story.

            “No,” Louis admitted.

            “Well, that explains it,” Harry said. “Any remotely good agent would be able to get you some modeling gigs, in the least.”

            “Yeah right.”

            “I’m serious.”

            “I’m too short to be a model.”

            “You only have to be tall if you’re on the runway and you don’t want that, trust me.”

            “Got any agent friends you can introduce me to then?” Louis asked, only half joking, as he fished a piece of ice out of his cup and began to chew it.

            “I do, but I’m not going to do that; introduce you, that is.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because what would I do without you?”

            Harry’s tone was light, meaning he was probably joking, but the words still made Louis’s chest and stomach do something funny.

            “We could be neighbors,” he said, maintaining his composure.

            “But my bills wouldn’t get paid. My electricity would get turned off. I would freeze to death, if I didn’t starve to death first.”

            “You’re hopeless,” Louis sighed, though he was smiling.

             “I’m going to turn that into a song.”

            “I better get co-writing credit.”

            “But you only came up with the title.”

            “That’s the whole theme though.”

            “I suppose you’re right,” Harry allowed after a brief hesitation.

            Once their meals were gone, Harry ordered two desserts; one for each of them, though he highly suggested they share.

            “No, thanks,” Louis replied. “I don’t particularly want your spit in my food.”

            “Oh,” Harry said, frowning just a bit. “Okay then. You can have whichever one you choose.”

            “I was joking,” Louis said with a roll of his eyes. “I think a little of your spit is the least thing I have to worry about when your…never mind.”

            “You are a dirty boy,” Harry commented.

            “And you absolutely loved it,” Louis said, then remembered who he was talking to and turned color. “I mean…um…sorry.”

            “Relax,” Harry said. “Why are you still so uncomfortable around me?”

            “I’m not uncomfortable around you. It’s just that you could fire me and I would end up broke and homeless and probably have to turn to things I never wanted to do to eat and such.”

            “I wouldn’t do that,” Harry said, frowning again, this time deeper. “Do you really think I’m that kind of person?”

            “No,” Louis admitted. “Not really.”

            “What can I do to help you relax?”

            “Well…you could talk less formally, for one.”

            “Pardon?” Harry questioned, that one eyebrow quirked.

            “No, ‘pardon’ is too formal.”

            “That’s just how I speak,” Harry said, another nearly human smile making its way across his face.

            “It’s stressful,” Louis told him.

            “I do beg your forgiveness.”

            “Stop.”

            “What act would you like me to cease?”

            “You’re doing this shit on purpose now.”

            “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

            “You…did you really just say that?”

            “Say what?”

            Louis shook his head, not about to repeat those words. The desserts were delivered then anyway, so there was no need for a reply.

            “Holy shit, this is good!” Louis exclaimed, a little too loudly after only his first bite. Some people turned and Louis was about to apologize when Harry laughed-actually laughed.

            “You are truly something, Louis.”

            “You too, Shakespeare.”

            “Shakespeare? Hardly.”

            “I bet you were Shakespeare in a past life.”

            “None of us had a past life, Louis.”

            “I have to disagree, Har…Mr. Styles, if only for the fact that I want another chance after this.”

            “Harry. Call me Harry, please. But you won’t need another chance after this. I firmly believe you will live out all of your wildest dreams in just this one.”

            “Yes, I am on quite the roll,” Louis said, rolling his eyes again before taking another bite of the best chocolate cake his taste buds had ever been blessed with experiencing.

            “You’re not happy,” Harry commented. It didn’t sound like a question. He’d also stopped eating.

            “That’s not true,” Louis said quickly because he realized belatedly that he probably shouldn’t be talking about how he felt like he’d failed in life to his employer. “I’m just being dramatic.”

            Harry studied Louis intently enough to make him grow uncomfortable. Luckily, he was, once again, saved by the server.

            “How are your desserts, sirs?” he asked. _Rich people_ , Louis thought to himself.

            “Great, thanks,” he said out loud.

            “Superbly exquisite; a true taste of delightful delicacy.”

            Louis knew Harry felt the way his eyes were glaring a hole through his skull by the way he smirked and, God, Louis hated him. Or maybe he loved him.

            “That didn’t even make sense,” he informed Harry, not thinking about whether he loved him or not. It wasn’t like anything would change if he did.

            “I got the reaction I wanted though,” Harry said.

            “Oh yeah?”

            “Yeah. You’re really hot when you’re angry.”

***

            “Harry…”

            “Mmm…”

            “Harry.”

            “Louis.”

            The way Harry said his name made Louis shiver.

            “If we’re going to do this again we really should…you know…use something this time.”

            “There’s not time.”

            Harry and Louis had gone straight home after dinner, having had enough eye sex across the table to make them long for the real thing. Louis was grateful he made it home alive, honestly, because Harry wasn’t exactly driving the speed limit. They’d kissed all the way to Harry’s bed, various articles of clothing leading the way back to the front door like bread crumbs. The sad thing was, they hadn’t consumed a single alcoholic beverage that night.

            “Seriously?” Louis asked, trying to sound slightly condescending despite the fact that he was really turned on by the knowledge that he could get to Harry that quickly and easily. He hadn’t even been trying yet!

            “I can’t help it,” Harry moaned and, fuck. Why? “You’re just so gorgeous, Lou…So gorgeous.”

            Crashing their lips together, Louis worked with Harry’s boxers, the only thing he still had on, and ignored that voice in the back of his head that kept calling him stupid over and over and over.

***

            Harry took Louis to lunch the next day. There weren’t many paparazzi that time, as they went to a simple pizza parlor and Harry was mildly in disguise, though he did have a few fans recognize him and ask for pictures, which he obliged to with Louis’s permission. Louis, of course, took the pictures most of the time, but he didn’t mind, mainly because each time, Harry would apologize and give him a sneaky kiss to make up for it.

            But also because, that night, there were articles online; pictures of he and Harry from the previous night and also that afternoon at lunch which a fan had apparently leaked, and, in those articles, he was dubbed as “Harry Styles’ hottie.”

            “They think I’m ho-ot!” Louis called in a sing-song voice.

            “They’re not wrong,” Harry commented, giving Louis’s neck a kiss. “But those are rubbish articles, Louis, don’t read them.”

            “Why do you say that?” Louis asked. “I think they’re rather good.”

            “They don’t even care about finding out who you are or what your name is. You are a _person_ , Louis, not my possession.”

            “You’re so sensitive,” Louis cooed, patting Harry’s cheek. “I’m perfectly fine with being your ‘hottie,’ so don’t worry about it.”

            Harry rolled his eyes, but kissed Louis anyway.

***

            “All right. We need to start planning your birthday party.”

            “‘We?’ Isn’t this what I pay you for?”

            Louis rolled his eyes, running his hand through Harry’s hair as the singer laid his head in his lap, looking innocently up at the other. It was a little over a month since that first night Louis and Harry spent together, and one week before Harry’s birthday. Of course, he was expected to have a huge celebration and, of course, Harry wanted ‘help’ in planning the event.

            “I do not get paid extra when I have parties to plan, so to answer your question honestly, no.”

            “Do you want to get paid extra?”

            “No, Harry, that’s not what I’m saying. I just want your input on this. It’s your birthday. I don’t know what you want.”

            “You.”

            Harry pursed his lips, his lazy way of asking Louis for a kiss, but Louis placed his hand over the other’s face, ignoring his request for the time being.

            “Stop being John Green and help me.”

            “We are not tragic enough to be in a John Green novel.”

            Louis didn’t mention the fact that he felt pretty tragic, as he’d been kissing Harry and doing other boyfriend things with him without getting the label of ‘boyfriend’ for about a month now.

            “Where do you want to have the party?”

            “Here.”

            “No.”

            “No?”

            “No. I’m not cleaning up that mess.”

            “I wouldn’t expect you to. I would hire an actual cleaning service for that.”

            “Excuse me?”

            “You know what I mean,” Harry said with a smile.

            “You really want to have it here?”

            “Yeah. I’m not much of a partier, so I’d like it if I could appear for an hour or two and then disappear once everyone gets too trashed to care.”

            “I’m starting to think you are a tragic character, Styles.”

            “So can we have it here?”

            “It’s your birthday,” Louis sighed dramatically, marking the location down in his notebook. “Now, what’s the theme?”

            “You decide.”

            “Unicorns,” Louis joked.

            “If you want to,” Harry replied.

            “You are no help at all.”

            “I’m still bitter from last year.”

            “Last year?”

            Louis thought back.

            “You were on tour last year.”

            “Yeah, but you didn’t come to my party.”

            “I wasn’t invited.”

            “I did too invite you.”

            “No you didn’t.”

            “I sent you a text two days before asking if I could buy you a plane ticket to fly down and celebrate with me.”

            “No you didn’t.”

            “I did too.”

            “Well, I didn’t receive it. I only received the one that night when you were drunk, proclaiming your love for a guy you saw underneath the strobe lights on the other side of the club.”

            “I was trying to make you jealous. Did it work?”

            “All I’m saying is that I better not receive any of those texts this year.”

            “Of course not. You’ll be by my side this year.”

            Harry paused.

            “Right?” he asked.

            “If you want,” Louis said, trying to sound like Harry’s neediness didn’t make him happy at all. “I mean, it is your birthday.”

***

            Despite what he said about disappearing a couple of hours into his party, Harry stayed, mainly because he could tell Louis was having the time of his life, meeting all of his boss’s celebrity acquaintances and having drinks brought to him by several men and even a few women. Harry smiled through it, though accepted no drinks himself and squeezed Louis’s waist somewhat possessively as he took shot after shot and sipped on cocktail after cocktail.

            “Sorry, I shouldn’t be doing this,” Louis slurred once he was too far gone for it to even matter. “It’s your birthday. Do you want to disappear now?”

            “No, you’re having fun. That’s what matters.”

            “No. S’not my birthday.”

            “I didn’t throw you a party, so we can pretend.”

            “But my birthday was great anyway. Come on. Let’s disappear.”

            “How are you feeling?”

            “I feel amazing.”

            “Then before we disappear, can I ask you a favor?”

            “Anything you want, birthday boy.”

            “Dance with me?”

            “Dance?!”

            Louis giggled.

            “That might be a little hard for me right now.”

            “I’ve got you,” Harry promised.

            “Okay. I would love to dance with you.”

            Holding tight to his hand, Harry led Louis to the DJ, where he requested a song. Louis was too drunk to recognize it-maybe he hadn’t heard it before-but it was a slow song and suddenly he kind of wanted to cry. Luckily, he didn’t.

            The next few minutes were kind of like a fairytale. As Harry took Louis to the center of the grand entrance hall, which was serving as the dance floor for that night, the guests cleared the area, watching as the two got in position before Harry began leading the dance, keeping a firm hold on an unsteady Louis while never looking away from his eyes. Louis didn’t look away either.

            As the song ended, the room was filled with claps, cheers and whistles and, positively beaming for the first time since Louis had known him (or that he’d observed, at least), Harry leaned down to say quietly into Louis’s ear,

            “I love you.”

            Except, no, that wasn’t what he whispered because that made no sense. Louis was hearing things. Louis was way too drunk. He giggled.

            “What’s so funny?” Harry asked, head tilted to the side a little, eyes smiling as they scanned Louis’s face.

            “Nothing,” Louis replied. “I think I’ve partied enough for one night though.”

            “I agree, though I wasn’t going to say anything.”

            “So what’s next, birthday boy?”

            Wordlessly, Harry led Louis into his home theater, where he started some popcorn while Louis worked on picking a movie. He was too drunk even for that task, though, so eventually told Harry it was now his duty and went to curl up on one of the recliner chairs. Harry popped something in and then brought the bucket of popcorn to Louis, along with two water bottles, just for him.

            “You need it,” he commented. Louis agreed, and finished the food and drink in record time, letting out a content sigh before raising the armrest of their chair and snuggling next to Harry, who put an arm around him and kissed the top of his head.

            “What are we watching?” Louis asked, but he was asleep before he even got the answer.

***

            In all honesty, the fact that Louis didn’t wake up and have to immediately make a beeline for the bathroom was a miracle. That didn’t mean he felt good though, and he groaned loudly when he made the mistake of opening his eyes. From beside him, he heard a chuckle, which made his eyes fly open again. He fought against the pain to look beside him, eventually focusing on Harry. Relief flooded through him.

            “Good morning, party boy,” Harry greeted. “Or probably not.”

            “Did I puke?” Louis asked, which, okay, wasn’t awesome, but he hoped he hadn’t done a repeat of his own birthday before the last one.

            “No,” Harry answered. “You’re getting much better at holding your liquor.”

            “Thank you. It’s taken a lot of practice.”

            “There’s cake on your nightstand,” Harry said, “and also a pitcher of water.”

            “You are the most amazing man!”

            “That didn’t take practice. I was just born this way.”

            Louis rolled his eyes-bad idea-and sat up slowly, begging his stomach to just stay where it was, thank you. On the nightstand, he saw every bit of remaining cake from last night, and a fork.

            “You mean I can eat it from the container?” Louis asked, thinking he may have just fallen completely in love, like he totally was not before.

            “It’s just us. Go for it,” Harry said, so Louis did.

            “It might not be as effective as eggs and bacon,” Harry continued, “but a burnt down flat wouldn’t help anything, so…”

            “It’s perfect,” Louis replied, mouth shoved so full that some cake may have fallen out. He was too miserable to be ashamed. Harry snorted.

            “You are a classy man.”

            “The fucking classiest.”

***

            The cake did help a lot. Louis’s head was still killing him, but he didn’t feel like he was going to throw up so much anymore. Still, since he was more sick than not, Harry stayed in bed with him the whole day, watching television, napping and, once Louis had managed to clean himself up a bit, kissing as well. By dinner time, Louis managed to get up and cook them something simple because Harry’s stomach had growled loudly and Louis realized for the first time that, besides a few bites of cake, he hadn’t eaten all day.

            “You really would die without me,” Louis teased as Harry stood against a counter out of the way and watched Louis cook.

            “I told you,” Harry agreed.

            “Excuse me for having faith in your ability of being independent.”

            “You’re excused.”

***

            After dinner, Louis felt better than he had all day and he gave Harry a belated birthday treat, but then he woke up at four in the morning feeling nauseous again; even more so than the previous morning. Trying to ignore it, Louis closed his eyes and attempted to go back to sleep, but it was no use. Untangling himself from Harry’s hold-and ignoring his tired, mumbled, “Lou?”-Louis went to the bathroom and promptly threw up into the toilet. He really hoped he’d been quiet enough so as not to wake Harry-he really didn’t want him to see him like this again-but no such luck.

            “Lou?” Harry asked, sounding concerned, but Louis couldn’t really hear well, and he couldn’t reply either. The next thing he knew, a hand was placed on his back, rubbing light circles onto the skin, and Louis groaned.

            “Just go back to bed.”

            “This is a bit of a delayed hangover, isn’t it?”

            “Yeah, I guess,” Louis sighed, straightening up once he felt it was safe to do so and flushing the toilet. “Sorry, I’ll go back to my room.”

            “Why would you do that?” Harry asked, looking genuinely confused.

            “I am disgusting.”

            “You’re sick,” Harry corrected. “Come on; come back to bed with me.”

            “Hold on,” Louis said, going to the sink to splash his face and rinse out his mouth. He stalled, thinking Harry would grow tired of waiting and go on without him, but he didn’t.

            “Are you okay?” he asked.

            “Yeah, fine. Just had to pay for the party eventually I guess.”

            At that, the corner of Harry’s mouth twitched up.

            “Life is cruel,” he said.

            “Life is cruel,” Louis agreed.

            “Would you like to go back to bed?”

            “I would love that.”

            Harry held Louis’s hand until they reached the bed, where he actually tucked him in. Louis wanted to make a joke about it, but he maybe liked it a little too much, so he just smiled and scooted closer to Harry once he’d situated himself in the bed.

            “Thanks for letting me stay,” he said.

            “Feel better,” Harry replied, pressing a kiss to Louis’s forehead. Closing his eyes, Louis fell asleep quickly.           

            The next time he awoke, it was eleven in the morning, and he wasn’t nauseous anymore, but he did almost have a heart attack when he checked the clock. He had work that day, and he was already slacking! He’d missed breakfast and almost all of the morning chores he’d planned, putting him further behind for the work. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit._

            “Harry?!” Louis called, throwing on some pajama pants but foregoing a shirt as he rushed around the house, looking for his boss-with-benefits. “Harry?!”

            Finally, Harry stepped out of the downstairs study, almost running into Louis as he did so, brow scrunched up in that typical concerned Harry look. Louis was getting too used to the man’s (very few) facial expressions, he believed.

            “Is everything all right?” Harry questioned.

            “No! Why did you let me sleep so long?! I had things to do…breakfast to cook and…okay, well, nothing I can do about it now. Shit. What do you want for lunch?”

            “Hold on, Louis,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “How are you feeling?”

            “I’m fine. Lunch?”

            “You pick.”

            “Please just tell me,” Louis whined. “I don’t want to mess anything else up today.”

            “You’re not going to mess anything else up…You haven’t messed anything up in the first place. You needed sleep, and now I think you also need food a lot more than I do, so what would you like?”

            Louis stared because, seriously? If anyone else was late for work because they decided to get trashed and were too hungover, they would be fired, or at least written up. The sex must be really good, Louis thought, admittedly a bit proud.

            “I’m not really hungry,” Louis admitted. “So anything goes.”

            “Do you still feel sick?” Harry asked, taking a step closer for some reason.

            “No. Just nothing sounds good, really. I’m okay. Now…lunch.”

            “Brunch?”

            “Brunch. Yes. Okay, I can do that.”

            Louis turned, heading to the kitchen, but slowed when he heard footsteps behind him.

            “Can I watch you?” Harry asked.

            “Umm…yeah, if you want to. It’s your house,” Louis answered with a nervous laugh. Why he was suddenly so nervous, he didn’t know.

            “It’s our house,” Harry said.

            “It’s yours. I just happen to occupy it at the moment too.”

            “At the moment?”

            “Yeah, though I don’t see a change in the near future either.”

            “Hmm.”

            Louis didn’t know what “hmm” meant, but Harry seemed willing to drop the subject, so Louis let it go.

***

            By early afternoon, Louis’s stomach had settled the rest of the way and he was near starving. Harry ordered pizza for them and Louis ate a lot; perhaps too much, because he was up at four in the morning again, throwing up.

            “I’m worried about you,” Harry admitted as he watched Louis wash up afterwards.

            “Don’t be. I’m probably just trying to get sick with something. Maybe you shouldn’t kiss me anymore.”

            “Oh, I’m going to kiss you,” the singer said, smirk on his face. “Well, not at this very moment, but soon.”

            “I think I look very appealing right now, thank you,” Louis said, despite the fact that he wouldn’t even look in the mirror for fear of what his reflection would show.

            “You’re always beautiful,” Harry told him.

            “Yeah, whatever, you sap,” Louis retorted, going around the other to go to bed. He was so, so tired. Harry crawled back in with him, feeling the sick man’s forehead before letting out another “hmm” and laying back down himself.

            Unlike the previous morning, Louis did not get to fall back to sleep and sleep peacefully for another seven hours because the nausea woke him again at six. He hated the flu with a passion.

            “Maybe you should go to the doctor,” Harry suggested.

            “For what? I’m sure I just have to let whatever this is pass.”

            Besides, he was fine again by mid-afternoon.

            Luckily he wasn’t woken again the next morning, or for the following few mornings after that. Whatever it was he had seemed to have passed already, thankfully.

            “Would you like to go to the studio with me?” Harry asked on the second morning.

            “I thought you had errands you wanted me to run?” Louis asked.

            “We can run them later, together, unless you don’t want to come, of course.”

            “Of course I want to come.”

            “Really?”

            Louis found it funny that Harry looked so surprised by that.

            “I swear it’s like you don’t know me at all,” he teased.

***

            Louis knew a little about what to expect at the studio-he’d watched Harry’s behind the scenes special when it had aired-but experiencing it was something much different. It was almost surreal, if only for the fact that Harry showed more emotion in that sound booth than Louis had ever witnessed outside of it. The song they were working on was a love song, and Louis felt a pang of jealously at whoever could make Harry feel like that. He didn’t let it show.

***

            One of Louis’s errands for the day had been picking up Harry’s new suit for some high-end party he was to attend in a couple weeks’ time, but since Harry was tagging along, he drove again, letting Louis pick which car he wanted to take. He chose the black Spyder that time; the most ‘normal’ car that Harry owned.

            “So what kind of party is this?” Louis asked nonchalantly as they arrived at the shop.

            “It’s actually a Valentine’s party,” Harry answered. “I wasn’t going to go, but…Louis, would you like to go and be my date?”

            Louis’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, he was pretty sure.

            “Really?”

            Harry seemed amused by his surprise then.

            “Of course. Who else would I take?”

            _Maybe that person your song was about_ , Louis thought. Out loud, he said,

            “You’re right. I am the cutest non-famous person in the area.”

            “Well, obviously.”

            “I don’t know if there’s time to get me an outfit though.”

            “I’ll make sure there is, if you would like to come.”

            “Oh yeah, I forgot; money can do anything,” Louis teased.

            “Yeah. Almost,” Harry said, corners of his lips turned up slightly. “Shall we find you a suit then?”

***

            Louis was legitimately excited for this party, and not because he would get to, again, mingle and schmooze with the rich celebrities, but because he was going to a Valentine’s party as Harry’s date. Call him crazy, but he thought that was kind of serious.

            So, of course, he woke up on that day feeling like he was about to expel everything inside of him. As Harry had spent a long night at the studio, Louis had slept in his own bed, so he outwardly groaned as he turned his head into the pillow, trying to will the feeling to go away. When that didn’t work, he tried to will himself to at least throw up so he would feel better, but he didn’t do that either. Clearly, his body was trying to torture him, and it was succeeding, too.

            Louis wasn’t sure how long he lay there, miserable, but when he finally decided to check the time, he saw that it was nine o’ clock in the morning and hopped out of bed so quickly that he almost lost it. After taking a few deep breaths, he walked, slowly, out of the room and met Harry in the hallway on the way to his room.

            “Oh, good morning!” Harry greeted. “I was just coming to check and see if you were still alive.”

            “Yeah,” Louis said. _Unfortunately._ “Sorry.”

            “It’s completely fine.”

            “Breakfast?”

            “Yes, that sounds good. Make whatever you want to eat.”

            At the thought of putting any type of food into his body, Louis’s stomach clenched and he nearly gagged right there.

            “I’m not hungry,” he said. “What do you want?”

            “You’re not eating?”

            “No.”

            Harry tilted his head, as he tended to do when concerned, or something along those lines.

            “Are you okay, Louis?”

            “No,” Louis answered, hurrying around Harry to get to the nearest bathroom, cursing himself at the same time. Why couldn’t he have done this _before_ Harry was around? And then he cursed Harry as well because why did he have to follow?

            “You’re sick again?” the singer asked after Louis had thrown himself onto the bathroom floor. No he was most definitely not being dramatic. He felt like literal Hell.

            “Apparently,” he answered, voice croaky. Sexy.

            “Go back to bed,” Harry said then. “I’m going to get the thermometer.”

            “Just give me a couple minutes and then, eggs. How do eggs sound?”

            “You’re going to bed,” Harry said.

            “Is that an order?” Louis asked.

            “Yes.”

            Sighing, Louis sat up, fighting off another wave of nausea as he did so. “Sorry.”

            “You don’t need to apologize, though I do think it would be a good idea for you to go to the doctor this time. You’ve been sick quite often.”

            “Yeah. Maybe I will,” Louis said, slowly rising to his feet with the help of Harry.

            “I’ll be there in a minute,” Harry promised. Louis was too miserable to argue.

            About five minutes after he’d laid back down, Harry entered the room.

            “Louis?”

            “Hmm?”

            “I…um…where’s the thermometer?”

            Despite still feeling like he was going to vomit out his organs, Louis let out a small laugh.

            “Bottom drawer of your bathroom counter.”

            “Oh. I didn’t look there.”

            “Clearly.”

            “I’ll be back.”

            “I’ll be right here, unless I am hunched over the toilet dying.”

            Harry lingered, as if trying to find something to say, but then walked out without a word. Soon, he had returned, thermometer in tow.

            “You don’t have a fever,” he noted. Louis mumbled something inaudible, not too concerned by it. He and Harry had eaten seafood before Harry went to the studio last night, so perhaps it was that. Yes, that had to be it. It couldn’t really be anything else…

            …Except perhaps a baby.

            “Holy shit,” Louis gasped, jumping up and hurrying to the bathroom again. Harry didn’t follow that time, and was just hanging up the phone when Louis returned.

            “You have a doctors’ appointment at three o’ clock,” he announced. “Until then, I would suggest sleeping.”

            “I think it was just something I ate,” Louis said, though he didn’t really think that now. “I’ll be fine soon. We have that party tonight.”

            “I don’t think we will be attending that party,” Harry said, looking at Louis as if he had gone slightly mad.

            “We have to. Public appearances are part of your job, are they not?”

            “Yes, but this is not mandatory and I don’t really want you throwing up on Brad Pitt.”

            “Brad Pitt is going to be there?!” Louis asked, eyes widening with devastation. Harry rolled his eyes, though was obviously amused.

            “There will be other parties. Right now we’re just going to focus on you getting better, all right?”

            “I hate my life,” Louis whined, collapsing back onto his bed. With a small laugh, Harry began playing with his hair. It felt good.

            “I kind of figured,” Harry said softly and maybe Louis would have had a reply to that, but he fell asleep too quickly to think of one.

***

 

            When Louis woke up again, it was to the shrill, terrifying sounds of the smoke detector.

            “Harry?!” he called, jumping out of bed and sprinting out of the room. He was a little light-headed and still a bit nauseous, but not quite so much as before. “Harry, where are you?”

            He didn’t receive a verbal reply, but from the downstairs, in the kitchen, he could hear clanging and cursing, so he hurried there, finding Harry fanning the stove, which was smoky, but not engulfed in flames, luckily.

            “What the hell?” Louis asked, coughing against the smoke. Harry’s head snapped towards him and he dragged him out of the kitchen, coughing himself and looking completely stressed.

            “Harry?” Louis prodded. “What happened?”

            “I was trying to make you soup,” Harry said, arms crossed over his chest. If he didn’t know any better, Louis would say he was pouting, and it was absolutely adorable, but Louis still couldn’t help but to crack up laughing.

            “It’s not funny,” Harry argued, even if he was smiling a bit himself.

            “Seriously, Styles, _what_ would you do without me?” Louis asked, bouncing a loose curl on the other’s head.

            “Starve, I suppose, or at least be in a lot worse shape from eating take out all the time.”

            “You’re so lucky you’re cute.”

***

            Despite Louis insisting that he felt loads better (only a bit of an exaggeration), Harry still made him go to the doctor. Louis only didn’t get mad at him for the fact that he came along. It was a waste of time though, Louis knew deep down. He was pregnant. There was no other explanation, and he could see in the doctor’s eyes that he thought Louis was stupid or something as he asked questions hinting at a potential pregnancy, all of which received a ‘yes’ answer. When Louis verified that, yes, he had had unprotected sex recently, he was pretty sure that the doctor fought the urge to roll his eyes.

            “I think the best plan of action to begin with would be to give you a pregnancy test, if that is all right with you,” the older man said.

            “Okay,” Louis said weakly.

***

            “Lou,” Harry sighed when Louis finally exited the room after all of that was said and done. “Are you okay? You look rather pale.”

            “Yeah, I’m totally fine,” Louis said, not mentioning the fact that his heart was racing and he wanted to cry for a day or ten.

            “What did they say?”

            “Can we go home first?” Louis asked. The worry on Harry’s face increased, but he nodded.

            Louis was fidgety in the car and he knew that Harry was struggling to not question him, but he managed to wait until they were inside the house.

            “How bad is it?”

            “I’m not sure.”

            “You’re not sure?”

            “Yeah…”

            “Well, do you have to go back for more tests or something?”

            “No, not exactly…”

            “What do you mean?! Louis, what’s wrong with you?”

            Louis sighed, starting to break out in a nervous sweat. He may even be getting hives, he wasn’t quite sure.

            “I’m pregnant,” he said. Harry pulled back, forehead creasing as he studied Louis uncertainly.

            “What did you say?” he asked after a few moments.

            “I’m pregnant,” Louis repeated with a sigh. For another long while, Harry gave him that stare, making him quite uncomfortable, and then finally spoke again.

            “Who’s the other dad?”

            “You are…,” Louis answered, resisting the temptation to ask Harry if he was legitimately stupid.

            “Right,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes.

            “You are!”

            “And how am I supposed to know that?”

            “Well, for starters, you’re the only person I’ve had sex with, protected or otherwise, for an embarrassingly long time.”

            “Right,” Harry said again, even more sarcasm laced in his voice than the last time.

            “Excuse me, but I’m always either doing things for you or doing _you_. When would I have had time to be with anyone else?”

            “How far along are you?”

            “I don’t know yet. I need to make an appointment with a different doctor for that.”

            “You could be two months along. Maybe even a little more.”

            “So?”

            “So I was on tour.”

            “Okay, but I didn’t have sex with anyone while you were on tour. It looks like our baby had to have been conceived on December twenty-fourth or after.”

            “Stop saying that!” Harry nearly shouted, startling Louis. “It’s not our baby!”

            “Hey, I’m no more prepared for this than you are, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s real and it’s happening. Now you can step up and be a dad, or you can walk away.”

            “ _I_ can walk away? Are you forgetting you live in _my_ home?”

            Louis fell silent then, because he did kind of forget that and, realizing he had him backed into a corner, Harry smirked.

            “Don’t worry,” he said, none too kindly. “I’m not completely heartless. I’ll still allow you to live in my house, and possibly your slut child too.”

            “Don’t talk about our baby like that.”

            “It’s _your_ baby, and, actually, do you even really know who the other father is, Louis?”

            “It’s you.”

            “I don’t believe that.”

            “Do you _really_ not believe it, or do you just not want to step up and take responsibility so you’re going to paint it out like I’m some cheating cock whore to make people feel sorry for you?”

            “You’re not a cheating cock whore,” Harry said. “We would have to be in a relationship for you to cheat.”

            So they didn’t have anything real, Louis knew then. He wasn’t anything to Harry; nothing but a servant and a fuck, at least.

            “You’re an ass hole,” Louis said, pushing around Harry to go upstairs because no way was he going to let this man see him cry.

            “That’s no way to talk to your boss,” the other’s voice called out. Louis had to fight really hard not to flip him off.

            Maybe he was just in shock and scared, Louis reasoned with himself as he crawled into bed and buried his face into his pillow, his cheeks already wet. Louis was definitely scared himself, though not so much in shock. He had known this was a possibility every time he let Harry have unprotected sex with him. He was surprised it took him so long to put the pieces together, but perhaps he had just been too nervous to consider it a reality before. He was pregnant. _There was a tiny, but growing, human inside of him_. In less than nine months, there was going to be a creature that was half him and half the man he loved (though loved less at the moment) on Earth, and as scared as he was, he was happy too. Besides, Harry had to come around, right? It was his _child_. Surely he wouldn’t resent the thing, or the person who carried it.

            When Louis woke the next morning, it was at least later than four o’ clock, but he still felt sick. This had better be a first trimester thing and not a whole pregnancy thing, he thought as he made his way to the bathroom to throw up.

            When he had finished and opened the door to exit, he was startled by Harry right there, pushing roughly past him to go to the toilet and throw up himself and _oh god, was he pregnant too?_

            “Harry?” Louis asked worriedly, walking over to rub his back, but Harry shrugged him off.

            “G’off me,” he mumbled, standing and falling to the side a little before caving and going back down to the ground.

            “Are you okay?” Louis asked.

            “So drunk,” Harry said and okay, good. Louis may slowly be coming to terms with being a father, but two at one time would be too much.

            Oh god, he hoped it wasn’t twins.

            “You’re in your suit,” Louis said, just noticing that Harry had changed into the outfit he was going to wear to the Valentine party.

            “Well, duh. I couldn’t really go in jeans.”

            “Oh. I didn’t realize you still went, sorry.”

            _Why are you apologizing to this damn man, Louis?_

            “Course I went,” Harry said, attempting to stand. Louis almost helped him, but stopped himself. Right now, Harry deserved nothing from him. “Did you think you were an irreplaceable date, Louis?”

            Not honoring that with a response, Louis turned on his heel and marched downstairs to make himself some toast. When he found a stranger in the kitchen, he screamed.

            “Ouch,” the stranger whined, dragging out the word as they shot daggers at Louis with their eyes. “Do you mind?”

            “Who the fuck are you?” Louis asked.

            “Harry’s boyfriend,” they said, and giggled. They were in Louis’s party suit. Louis wanted to hit him.

            “Boyfriend,” he repeated.

            “Yeah,”

            “Hold on, sugar plum, I wouldn’t go that far,” Harry said from behind Louis. “It was a great night yeah, but…no, I don’t actually expect to see you again.”

            The poor stranger looked devastated, and though Louis didn’t know him and also kind of hated him, he felt bad for him too, probably because he knew exactly how he was feeling. (Well, Louis probably felt a little worse, but still.)

            “You really are a proper dick,” Louis told Harry as the stranger continued making his eggs in silence.

            “I know,” Harry assured both men, and exited the room as quietly as he’d come. Rolling his eyes, Louis went back to his own room, the minimal amount of appetite he’d had vanished.

***

            For the most part, Harry left Louis alone that day. Likely, he was too miserable to bother with him. The next day, though, his mood had seemed to somehow worsen, and he seemed dead set on getting revenge for something Louis had only done in his mind.

            “Good morning!” Harry greeted, falsely cheerful, as he entered the bathroom where Louis was, again, getting sick. Louis simply rolled his eyes, something he was noticing he did quite often around Harry, and flushing the toilet but sitting on the floor until Harry left his position by the counter so he could wash up. Harry smiled at him. “Your ‘to-do’ list is on the refrigerator.”

            “My ‘to-do’ list?” Louis asked. “I’ve never had a ‘to-do’ list before.”

            “Yes, well there is quite a bit that needs to be done today. I don’t think you would be able to remember them all and I’m trying to make this as easy as possible for you, given your fragile situation.”

            “Yeah, I can tell,” Louis said sarcastically. “I’ll start in a little bit, but if you didn’t know, it’s only six something in the morning, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to go back to bed for a little bit.”

            “Actually, I do mind,” Harry spoke. “I really would prefer that you get started now.”

            “Why? Breakfast is my first job and you never want to eat until at least eight thirty.”

            “Yes, but if you would look at your to-do list, you would see that I am having some acquaintances over for breakfast and they like quite the feast. That requires a run to the store and quite a bit of food prep time.”

            “Harry, I don’t even stop throwing up until at least ten.”

            “Good luck.”

            The singer turned and headed out of the bathroom, but Louis’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

            “I quit.”

            Harry stood still, back to Louis, for what seemed like several minutes but was probably less than ten seconds and then turned to him, facial expression eerily calm.

            “Since I am such a good person, I’m giving you a chance to take that back, which I highly suggest you do.”

            “Why? I can’t deal with this shit, Harry.”

            “It’s not just about you anymore, Louis. You have a baby you need to think about.”

            “Exactly, so I’ll get a job; a better paying one where my boss isn’t an irresponsible prick.”

            “You might find that is a little hard to do.”

            “I doubt it. I have experience now.”

            “And where do you expect to live until you save enough money to move?”

            “I already have enough for a few months’ rent saved and I don’t think it would take me that long for me to find something.”

            “You were already saving?”

            Louis thought maybe he saw a bit of hurt show on Harry’s face then. Probably not, though. He likely imagined it.

            “Did you expect me to stay forever?”

            The anger on Harry’s face was unmistakable then.

            “I still think it will be hard for you to find anyone who wants to hire you.”

            “And why do you say that?”

            “You’re mildly known now in the media, Louis, because of me, but no one cares about you without me. It won’t take much for them to believe that you’re a cheating, gold digging, liar.”

            “I didn’t cheat. We weren’t together, remember?”

            “They think we were.”

            “Why would you do that, Harry?!”

            Angry tears were in Louis’s eyes, making him even angrier because he’d tried so hard to not let Harry get to him. More so, he tried hard to convince himself that Harry was just in shock about the situation; that he just needed time. But no. Harry was actually a terrible human being and Louis couldn’t believe he let himself fall for that.

            “Survival of the fittest, Louis.”

            “This has nothing to do with ‘survival of the fittest!’ You’re twisted! You need help!”

            “Maybe,” Harry admitted. “So are you putting in your two weeks’ notice, quitting and leaving my place today, or staying?”

            “Fuck you.”

            Louis tried to march by Harry, but the singer grabbed his wrist and spun him around tightly.

            “Ow!” Louis exclaimed, though it didn’t really hurt much physically. Most of his pain was internal. Harry didn’t care either way.

            “Don’t talk to me like that, Louis. I am your boss, and as such, you should really stop using my first name if you know what’s best for you. It’s disrespectful.”

            Louis really wanted to show him disrespect and spit in his face, but instead, he broke free from Harry’s grasp and hurried to the kitchen, blinking back the moisture in his eyes so that he could read his ‘to-do’ list.

***

            Every day, Louis wondered why he was still there, slaving away for Harry. He could say it was fear; that he thought he wouldn’t get another job, thus leaving him homeless and forced to give up his baby, and maybe that was a little true, but deep down, he didn’t believe it. It was less pathetic than what the true answer probably was, though. Louis loved Harry, and he kept hoping he would come around. Sometimes he would catch Harry staring at him out of the corner of his eye, when he didn’t think he could see. He lingered around when Louis made his first doctor appointment about the baby, and, once, Louis even noticed that he’d left a search tab open on remedies for morning sickness, but Harry didn’t change. He pushed Louis harder than he ever had before, giving him more work with, of course, no more pay. In fact, he even mentioned giving Louis a pay cut, as all his doctor appointments was very inconvenient for him. He never did though, and maybe he was afraid Louis would do as he said and leave.

            Or maybe Louis was just too hopeful and much too stupid.

            As Louis’s baby tummy slowly started growing, the rumors popped up everywhere. He was papped everywhere; going to the grocery, getting gas, out with friends, who knew the truth but who Louis trusted to never spill the gossip. None of them were too happy over the situation, but they assured Louis that they had his back.

            The same couldn’t be said for Harry, who said to the media that, yes, Louis was pregnant, but it was not his and no, they were not together anymore and could he please get some privacy during this time?

            “How could you do this?!” Louis screeched when he saw one of the many articles containing his interview.

            “Is any of it false though?” Harry reasoned calmly.

            “Yes! It’s your baby!”

            “Please calm down, Louis. This stress is not good for your child.”

            “ _Our_ child, Harry! _Our_ child!”

            “That’s Mr. Styles, Louis. Now, please be a darling and do the vacuuming.”

            After that, the paparazzi grew worse for a while, calling Louis the exact names Harry had said to him; slut, whore, gold digger. But Harry was right about one more thing, and that was no one really cared about him without Harry, and so the interest eventually faded. Louis thought that would make him feel better, but it didn’t.

***

            “Isn’t it a little late in the pregnancy for morning sickness?”

            Louis, four-and-a-half months pregnant, peeked one eye open to stare at Harry from the fetal position he had taken on the couch, next to a great big bucket. Normally, he would have stayed in his room, but Harry had claimed he would be gone all day and Louis was sick of his bed, which he stayed in almost constantly when he wasn’t doing work for Harry. Which actually wasn’t that often, to be honest, but still.

            “Some people are sick the whole time,” he croaked.

            “Sucks for you,” Harry said.

            “Thank you for your sympathy."

            “My bedroom light bulb burned out so if you could change it before I get back, that would be great.”      

            “It’s my day off.”

            “I kind of need a light.”

            “Can’t you do anything by yourself?”

            “No, not really.”

            At least he admitted it.

            “Sure. Whatever.”

            “Also, I was thinking that the baby can have that spare bedroom a couple doors down from you.”

            Harry mentioning the baby in a non-negative way made Louis’s heart skip and flutter, and he hated himself.

            “Okay,” he said flatly.

            “If it’s a boy, I think the room should be outer space themed and if it’s a girl, butterflies and kittens.”

            “Are we really discussing this?” Louis asked, shock infuriatingly evident in his voice as he locked eyes with the other man.

            “It’s not my baby, but it’s my flat,” Harry answered cooly before turning on his heel and leaving. Louis wanted to push him into heavy traffic.

***

            “Baby, why don’t you just come home?”

            “I can’t, mum” Louis sighed. “My life is here.”

            “Your life? You do housework for a rich bastard while earning next to nothing and have an illegitimate child that you’re barely going to be able to support.”

            “You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

            “I’m sorry, sweetie, and you know I don’t mean anything by it. Lord knows I was in the same position as you, but I made a mistake; I was too stubborn to accept help and you paid for it.”

            “I didn’t ‘pay’ for anything. You were a great mum.”

            “Thank you, baby, but you know you had to sacrifice many things that you shouldn’t have just so we could live.”

            “So I couldn’t get every single video game I wanted. Big deal. Besides, maybe once Harry sees the baby, he’ll know. Maybe it will have his curls, or his dimples, or his eyes. Or maybe it won’t look anything like him, but he’ll still know because it will be his child. Maybe he’ll love him or her then.”

            “Louis…love, I know this is going to sound harsh and cold and I’m sorry. But I really don’t think so.”

            “This is my home, mum,” Louis sighed. “It could be better, could be worse…it is what it is.”

***

            “Going somewhere?

            Louis jumped, turning from the front door to see Harry standing just a few feet away.

            “My baby shower,” he answered, though thought just a simple ‘yes’ would have sufficed.

            “Oh,” Harry said. A beat of awkward silence passed. “How far along are you again?”

            “Six months today.”

            “I see.”

            More silence.

            “Will the other dad be there?” Harry questioned next.

            “Do you want to come?” Louis asked.

            “No, of course not.”

            “Then no, he won’t be.”

            Louis walked out and shut the door with more gusto than was necessary. Or maybe just enough.

***

            The baby shower was nice, Louis supposed. All of his closest California friends were there, it was nicely decorated, he got so many amazing gifts, and he was so in love with the little baby still growing inside of him, but still, something was missing. Harry was missing. He figured he would always feel this way, and hoped the baby didn’t feel the same; always missing the father he would never know despite the fact that they lived in the same house.

            Louis’s friend Stan, the only one who had been able to fly down from England to attend the party, followed him home to help him carry his numerous gifts inside and up to his room.

            “I can get the rest,” Stan assured his friend after their second trip. “You really shouldn’t be carrying all of this stuff up steps and such.”

            “It’s fine,” Louis said. “I’m used to it.”

            “What do you mean you’re used to it?”

            “I go up and down and everywhere cleaning and such,” Louis said with a nonchalant shrug. Stan frowned.

            “You need to take it easy, man. You’re very pregnant.”

            “I’m not that pregnant,” Louis said. “Besides, I’m very small for how far along I am, the doctor said.”

            “That doesn’t matter. You’re still six months pregnant.”

            “I’m fine, Stan. Really.”

            And he was, when it came down to it. Maybe he was tired all the time, and sometimes got light-headed if he worked too hard, but that was normal. Working through the false contractions that had already started up was the worst part of it all, but they didn’t hurt; just made him feel very uncomfortable, and no one could do anything about that.

            “Are you getting time off when the baby is born?” Stan continued.

            “I don’t know,” Louis said. He doubted it. “We haven’t discussed it.”

            “You better and if not, sue the bastard for all he’s worth.”

            Louis laughed, but, going by the look on Stan’s face, he wasn’t joking.

***

            After helping Louis organize his gifts a bit, keeping some in his room and some in the baby’s room, Stan left. Louis walked him to the door and when he turned back around, he saw Harry standing just a few feet away. They stared at each other for a strange amount of time before Harry spoke.

            “Space or kittens?” he asked.

            “What?”

            “Is it a boy or girl?”

            Oh, of course, Harry had been talking about the bedroom themes, as if Louis was actually going to take his suggestion after all he’d put him through.

            (He probably was though.)

            “Boy,” Louis answered, and the corners of Harry’s mouth twitched up for only a half a second, but still…Louis saw it.

            “Have you named him?” he asked next.

            “Not yet. I got a baby name book today though, so maybe soon.”

            Without a reply to that, Harry turned on his heel and went upstairs. Why he was so weird, Louis couldn’t fathom.

***

            “Ares.”

            “I beg your pardon?”

            Louis took pride in the baffled look on Harry’s face, he wasn’t going to lie.

            “His name is Ares.”

            “Your baby?”

            “Yes. My baby.”

            Harry’s nostrils flared a little, as this was the first time Louis hadn’t tried to argue about it being _their_ baby. But Harry had made it clear that he wasn’t going to step up and take responsibility as a father, so as far as Louis and Ares should be concerned, he wasn’t one.

            “Right. Anyways, dinner looks great. Now if you could go bake a cake too.”

            “You want me to bake a cake?”

            “Yes.”

            “What kind of cake?”

            “Vanilla with strawberry filling and chocolate icing.”

            “That is a very specific craving. Are you sure you’re not pregnant too?”

            “Of course not. I don’t get myself into these undesirable situations.”

            Louis almost smacked him. Every fiber of his being wanted to. Instead, he bit the inside of his cheeks, turned on his heel and headed to the store for cake batter.

            And he kind of wanted to smack himself then, too.

***

            “You look like shit.”

            “Thank you very much.”

            Harry smiled. Louis hated him.

            “Are you seven months yet?”

            “Seven months and one week.”

            “Are you scared yet?”

            “Why do you care?”

            (Louis was terrified.)

            “I don’t. Don’t you think you should get started on the baby room, though?”

            “I haven’t had time. I’ve been doing shit for you.”

            “Hmm, yes. Well, anyway, it’s no matter to me.”

            “You’ve made that obvious.”

            “The flat needs a good clean today. Every inch. I have company tonight; Important company.”

            “You’re not serious.”

            “Of course I am.”

            Louis, who had stayed fairly small for a long time during this pregnancy, wasn’t so small anymore. Only his stomach had really grown much, but it had grown a lot. His job was becoming harder every day, and he often took the lazy way out. So far, Harry hadn’t said anything about it, which was good because Louis’s hormones were also raging and he might actually murder him if he did.

            Or cry. He cried a lot these days, just like he started to then.

            “What is your problem?” Harry asked, looking concerned, but only for Louis’s sanity and probably his own safety.

            “I’m pregnant!” Louis exclaimed because that should be reason enough to break down, he thought.

            “Maybe you should learn to keep your pants up then,” Harry said.

            “Fuck you,” Louis said, turning and beginning to march (or something close to that) back upstairs.

            “Louis, wait, please,” Harry called. Reluctantly, Louis turned around.

            “What?”

            “My visitors will be here at five, so you should probably get a move on.”

            Louis made a sound that he wasn’t quite proud of as more tears poured out of his eyes and he continued making his way upstairs. He wanted to go to his bedroom and just cry for a while, and he knew he should. He had every right. But instead, he went to the bathroom and began to clean.

***

            “Seriously, Louis?”

            Louis couldn’t really answer, but if he could have, he probably would have cursed Harry out because he didn’t want to start this whole throwing up thing again any more than Harry wanted him to.

            “My guests will be here in an hour and you haven’t even touched the downstairs, which is the important part. Why didn’t you start there anyway? I swear, you’re so god damn stupid sometimes.”

            “Harry, it hurts,” Louis whined, a little more pathetically than he had meant to.

            “That’s Mr. Styles. And I’m sorry, but you have things to do so maybe you can feel sorry for yourself later, yeah?”

            “Something is wrong.”

            “I agree. My flat is a mess.”

            “Harry, please!”

            Louis had to look a disaster then, lying on the cold tile of the bathroom, sweat and tears all down his face, but he didn’t even care.

            “Something is wrong,” he said again. Harry stared-glared more like-for a few moments before he rolled his eyes, but asked,

            “What hurts?”

            “Back and stomach.”

            “Well, you are pregnant.”

            “This isn’t normal! Please, I…I think I’m in labor.”

            “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s much too early.”

            “There’s such a thing as preterm labor, you know!”

            “I don’t like your attitude.”

            Louis groaned because he knew before that Harry was basically the biggest ass hole in the history of ass holes, but this went beyond anything. Louis had a lot of pride, thank you, and to let someone see him like this was clearly a sign that something wasn’t right. Before he could say any of this, he was hunched over the toilet, throwing up again. Harry sighed loudly, letting his disdain be known.

            “I’ll call the ambulance.”

            “Ambulance?!”

            “Yes…so they can take you to the hospital that you claim you need.”

            “I don’t want an ambulance. I don’t like ambulances. Please.”

            “Are you going to drive yourself?”                                              

            “No. Let me call my friend, please.”

            “Whatever.”

            Harry exited the room, leaving Louis to wobble to his bedroom and get his phone.

            Naturally, his friend didn’t answer. Neither did the second friend. Louis hated everyone in his life right now.

            “Are you leaving?” Harry asked when he entered Louis’s room a few minutes later to find him bawling his eyes out on his bed.

            “Just call the ambulance,” he said, not opening his eyes. It was silent for about half a minute, and he thought Harry had left, but when he finally peeked, Harry was at the end of the bed, staring. He thought he saw softness on his face, but it was gone so quickly that maybe it was just in his head.

            “Come on,” Harry said, sighing again. “We’ll take the Spyder.”

            “Wait, what?”

            “I don’t really want you giving early birth on my bed sheets.”

            Technically, they were Louis’s bed sheets, but he wasn’t going to get sassy now.

            “Thank you,” he gasped, sitting up slowly and wincing.

            “I’ll be waiting,” Harry said and left quickly.

            It took Louis a while to get down to the car-this was seriously the worst pain he’d felt in his life-and by the time he did, his body decided it had to throw up again, which he did all over Harry’s driveway.

            “Jesus, Louis,” the singer sighed as he jumped out of the car and went inside. Louis started crying more then because great; now Harry wasn’t going to take him to the hospital. He was going to have to decide between calling an ambulance, driving himself or having an early home birth. The last one wasn’t even really a choice. Ares wasn’t ready yet. He needed a doctor.

            His baby…

            “What are you waiting for?!” Harry asked his employee as he came back outside, bucket in hand. _Oh_. Yeah, that was probably a good idea, Louis thought.

            “Get in the car!” Harry said, gesturing with the bucket wildly. Louis obeyed.

            On the way there, Louis did his best to stop crying, but it was useless. He was scared, sick and in pain, though mainly just worried about the baby. He loved his unborn son more than anyone or anything in the world, even Harry Styles, who he wouldn’t admit he loved at all, but he must after all he’d put up with from him.

            “Lou,” Harry said after one particularly loud sob that he wasn’t proud of. Instead of sounding angry or annoyed, though, Harry sounded concerned, or at least somewhat sympathetic. “It’s going to be okay,” Harry continued.

            “I’m so scared,” Louis admitted against his better judgment, but he just needed to say it.

            “It will be fine,” Harry said again.

            “You don’t know that!”

            Harry grew silent then. Maybe Louis should apologize. After all, Harry had only been trying to comfort him, but…no. Harry wasn’t getting an apology.

            Everything that happened upon arriving at the hospital was somewhat of a blur. Harry dropped him off at the emergency entrance and Louis waddled in, explaining the situation through tears. They rushed him into an examination room without even making him wait and the doctor was in in record time. Questions were asked as both Louis and the baby’s vitals were taken. Soon, the doctor decided that he was, in fact, in preterm labor, but gave him some medicine that did thankfully stop it. Still, he had to stay at the hospital for observation, which was fine with him. He was tired and still sore, and he really couldn’t deal with listening to Harry tonight. In fact, he was already dreading getting released the next day.

***

            Louis woke to the smell of breakfast and his stomach growled before he’d even opened his eyes. It had been over twenty-four hours since he’d eaten, he realized, and even though the doctors had nourished and hydrated him through an IV, it wasn’t the same. He was starving.

            Opening his eyes so he could properly thank the nurse who had brought food for him, Louis was shocked to find that it was Harry, not a nurse, setting the food down on his nightstand.

            When Harry looked over to see Louis’s eyes on him, he actually jumped.

            “Oh. Hey,” he said nonchalantly.

            “Hi,” Louis said. “Food?”

            “McDonald’s,” Harry replied, running a hand through his knotted up hair. He looked almost as worn down as Louis knew he had to. Louis wondered why, but pushed it out of his mind. It was none of his concern, as it certainly had nothing to do with him or Ares.

            “I brought pancakes, one of those cinnamon things and a sausage biscuit thing because I didn’t know what would sound good, obviously,” Harry replied, looking everywhere but at Louis then.

            “Thanks,” Louis said, sitting up and reaching into the bag for his cinnamon melt.

            “You’re feeling better then?” Harry asked. It sounded somewhat forced, but he’d still asked, so Louis dropped that little note.

            “I am. I hope your guests weren’t too disgusted by your somewhat messy home.”

            “It’s cool,” Harry said. After a moment of silence, he added, “Well, I should be going. Call me when you find out when you’re getting out and I’ll send my driver after you.”

            “Okay. Thanks.”

            Without acknowledging Louis’s gratitude, Harry turned on his heel and walked out. Louis barely had time to sigh before a nurse entered.

            “Good morning, Mr. Tomlinson,” she greeted. “Keep eating, please. I’m just here to check vitals.”

            Louis didn’t need to be told to keep eating twice.

            “I know I shouldn’t ask,” the nurse, Gloria, her nametag read, started as she checked both Louis and Ares’s monitors and marked something down on her clipboard, “but I can’t help it. My curiosity is killing me. Who’s the other father?”

            “I can’t say,” Louis told her, having already suspected her question before she got the words out.

            “I understand,” Gloria said. “Again, I should just bite my tongue but as next week is my last week here anyway, I’m going to go for it; I can’t help but notice the other parent wasn’t here last night.”

            “No, he wasn’t,” Louis said, hoping he didn’t sound too bitter.

            “But do you know who was here the whole entire night?”

            “You?” Louis teased, remembering seeing the woman pretty early on in his stay.

            “Well, yes,” she said with a smile. “But also Harry.”

            “Harry?”

            “Yeah…Harry Styles…your boss…your ex-boyfriend…”

            “He wasn’t here last night,” Louis told her.

            “Yeah he was,” she disagreed. “He was out there pacing around all evening and pestering doctors until he finally passed out in a chair.”

            “I don’t believe you,” Louis told the nurse, who must have lived in the same dream world as Louis did.

            “I got a picture with him!” Gloria exclaimed. “Would you like to see it?”

            “Please.”

            After looking quickly over her shoulder, Gloria pulled her phone out of her pocket, scrolling for just a few seconds before handing the phone to Louis. The picture was, indeed, of her and Harry, and it did appear to be taken last night. Harry was even in the same clothes.

            “I think he really loves you,” Gloria continued. “Every single time a doctor passed, he stopped to ask how you and the baby were. I don’t know anything about you two, obviously, but I’ve seen enough love in my short time here to know what it is.”

            Louis laughed, shaking his head.

            “I wish, Gloria,” he sighed. Then he licked the icing off of his fingers and laid back down to fall into another round of sleep.

***

            Louis got released early that afternoon. He and Harry made arrangements for Harry’s driver to pick him up, but when the next nurse on duty entered to usher Louis out, Harry was by her side.

            “What are you doing here?” Louis blurted.

            “Getting you home,” Harry answered like it was obvious. “Can you walk?”

            “Of course I can walk, Harry. Preterm labor doesn’t immobilize your legs.”

            By some miracle, Harry didn’t come up with a retort to that or, if he did, he didn’t say it out loud.

            The new nurse had a wheelchair for him, which Louis walked to by himself before plopping down. Surprising him again, Harry was the one who began pushing him out, maybe just because he was too heavy for the nurse with all of this baby weight. He had been told to take it easy for the next month-and-a-half, but once this baby was out, Louis was going to invest in a gym membership. As long as that gym had a nursery, of course.

            “Got it?” Harry asked as Louis slowly rose from the chair, hands out as if to catch Louis if he did stumble.

            “I’m fine,” Louis replied.

            “There were a few paparazzi at the front, which is why we’re going out the back exit,” Harry explained.

            “You know, I’m starting to become grateful that I failed at my dream of fame.”

            “I’m not sure you quite failed,” Harry said. “There are many get well articles for you and Ares.”

            “How did they find out?” Louis sighed.

            “I won’t go into that,” Harry said. He walked a little behind Louis as they left from the hospital’s back exit; close enough to save the day if Louis became unsteady, which he did when they stepped into the sunlight and were blinded not only by the sun rays, but by several cameras going off at numerous times in various increments.

            “Shit,” Harry breathed, and Louis wasn’t even quite sure how he heard him through the paparazzi shouting questions at him.

            “Harry?” Louis said nervously, reaching back for him without even thinking about it.

            “I’m here,” Harry said, taking Louis’s hand. “They weren’t here before, I swear. I knew I should have called a bodyguard.”

            Louis didn’t reply because he didn’t want to speak around these leeches, but he began walking to Harry’s driver’s Cadillac, paparazzi swarming closer as he did, but Harry getting closer as well.

            “Louis!”

            Louis heard his name shouted over and over from all different directions. He looked around, but then he heard Harry’s voice telling him to keep going, so he looked at the ground and carried on until he was bumped into from the side. If it weren’t for Harry balancing him, he would have fallen, but before he could even shout a protest, Harry was on it, letting go of Louis’s hand to shove the paparazzi, his face contorted with anger as he shouted.

            “Leave him alone!” he said. “He’s pregnant, you dunces, fuck off!”

            “Harry, do you know who the other father is?” one paparazzi asked.

            “You’re still being supportive even though he cheated?” another asked.

            “I didn’t cheat!” Louis yelled, which, of course, only made them go crazier. Harry quickly, yet gently, pushed Louis forward until he was in the back of the car and the doors were locked. Louis was, naturally, crying again.

            “Do you see what you did?!” he shrieked, smacking Harry’s hands, which were resting on his arms, off of him.

            “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t think they saw us-”

            “Not that, Harry! I mean, yeah, they’re annoying little vultures, but they wouldn’t care half as much if you didn’t sell that cheating story! You couldn’t have just said we were good friends, but were never together in any way or something along those lines to where we both kept our reputation? It’s fine if you don’t want anyone to know that you’re the father, but why did you have to do this?!”

            Harry glanced to his driver, but he wasn’t giving either of them any attention. Louis thought he might like him if he were currently in a better mood.

            “I technically never said you cheated,” Harry said.

            “But you led everyone to believe that!”

            “You could have stood up for yourself, Louis! God! You _never_ stand up for yourself! You just take everyone’s shit and keep taking and keep taking! It drives me fucking insane!”

“Then maybe stop giving me shit to take! I’m a person, not just your slave and former blow up doll. Do you realize that?”

            Harry glared and then turned to face the window, arms crossed in what was a true pout. Louis took the same stance.

            As soon as they were back at the house, Louis jumped out of the car and headed inside, storming up to his room and throwing all of his belongings into the suitcase which he hadn’t touched since he moved to California about three years ago now.

            “What are you doing?” a voice from the doorway asked; Harry, of course.

            “Leaving,” Louis replied.

            “Leaving?”

            “Yes. Leaving. I quit. I’m done with this job. I’m done with this ridiculously large flat and I’m done with you. I can’t do it anymore, Harry!”

            “And where are you staying?”

            “I don’t know yet. But I’ll be fine; not like you’re worried.”

            “Louis, don’t leave.”

            Harry’s voice was soft; softer than Louis had heard it since when he was sick before he knew he was pregnant, when Harry _did_ care.

            “I almost lost my baby, Harry! Or, in the least, delivered an early baby that likely would have had health complications, and do you know why? Because I’m over-stressed and over-worked, according to the doctor! I almost hurt my baby because I was too stupid to see that you are never coming around and you’re not going to change! So I’m done! I’m so done.”

            “Lou!”

         Harry grabbed Louis’s arm as he attempted to go around him to the bathroom and gather his things there and Louis looked up at him, lips pursed, though his defensive position almost faltered when he saw the pure hurt in Harry’s eyes.

            “Don’t go,” Harry said.

            “Name one reason I should stay.”

            Harry’s eyes scanned Louis’s face as he thought. Louis raised an eyebrow, about ready to pull away in disgust, when Harry said,

            “I love you.”

            “What the fuck?!” Louis shrieked, and pulled away in not only disgust, but absolute repulsion. “How could you say that to me?!”

            “I do,” Harry said.

            “No. No, no, no, no, no.”

            Louis shoved past Harry roughly to get to the bathroom. Unfortunately, Harry followed.

            “I need you, Louis.”

            “Well you should have thought of that before you did everything you could to drive me away!”

            “I have problems, okay?!”

            “Everyone has problems! That doesn’t give us all an excuse to act like borderline abusive ass holes!”

            “You didn’t have to lead me on!”

            “What are you talking about?!”

            _Wh_ y _are you still talking to him, Louis?_

            “If your feelings weren’t mutual, you could have just told me!”

            “You were my everything!” Louis shrieked, and if that wasn’t dramatic, he didn’t know what was, but it was also true, so…

            “Why do you think I stayed so long?!” he continued. “I’ll give you a hint; it wasn’t because of your shitty attempts at blackmail, or fear, not really. It was because of you, and I hate myself for it, but mostly I hate you because you knew what you were doing and you loved it!”

            “I told you I loved you and you laughed at me!”

            “What?! When?!” Louis asked, sure Harry had gone completely crazy at this point.

            “On my birthday!”

            Silence fell upon them as Louis thought back. He had been drunk, and he laughed at everything when he was drunk, sometimes, but Harry hadn’t told him he loved him. Louis had thought he did, but had chalked that up to intoxicated insanity. Unless…

            “After we danced, I told you that I loved you,” Harry said. “And you laughed, so, no, I don’t think you are the one with reciprocated feelings here.”

            “You actually said that?” Louis asked, and his voice cracked. Damn it.

            “Yes. And I wrote that song for you that I sang when you came with me to the studio and you said nothing!”

            “I didn’t think it was for me!”

            “Who else would it be for?!”

            “I don’t know! One of your famous friends?”

            “No,” Harry laughed humorlessly. “It was for you, Louis.”

            Louis felt his reserve start to dissolve, but quickly snapped out of it. Harry was good at words. He was good at talking. He wasn’t good at feelings.

            “I think you’re confused as to what love is,” Louis commented, swinging his packed bag over his shoulder and heading downstairs. He would have to come back for Ares’s bigger things later and hope for the best, he supposed.

            “Come back!” Harry pleaded. “I want to be a part of your life! I want to be a part of our baby’s life!”

            Louis paused, hand on the doorway. Harry had said it. Ares was _their_ baby. This, and Harry telling him that he loved him, as he’d done earlier, were the only things Louis had been wishing for during the past several months.

            Except it was about five months too late, he now realized as he stepped outside and closed the door.

***

            Louis crashed at a hotel that night, where he called his mom and cried about wanting to go home. He couldn’t do that, of course, as he was now an at-risk pregnancy in his last trimester, so his wonderful, selfless mother brought what she could of home to him, and rented them a cheap, but not terrible, home for until he gave birth and they could all fly back to England.

            For the first couple of weeks, Louis rarely left the house. He wasn’t sure how interested people still were in him and Ares, but the events that had taken place outside of the hospital had scared him enough to not want to take any chances. He was going stir crazy, but he tried to find comfort in the fact that he was protecting his baby and that it would be over soon. Once he moved back to England, he doubted anyone would care.

            Or at least he hoped.

***

            “Louis, dear, you’ve got to get and do _something_ ,” his mom finally said after three consecutive days of him not leaving the couch. “I know you need to rest, but it’s not healthy to just sit indoors all day.”

            “Like what?” Louis asked, voice hoarse from non-use. He was pathetic.

            “Call up one of your friends; see if they would like to do something. I’m sure they all miss you.”

            “I don’t think they would want to be involved with the potential disaster that could follow being seen with me.”

            “Just call,” she insisted. “You never know until you try.”

            So Louis did, if only to make his mother happy. To his surprise, the first friend he called agreed immediately and even gathered a few of their other friends to meet for an early dinner at a low-key part of town where he was less likely to be spotted or even recognized. Louis was excited, he guessed. Maybe he would feel a little bit normal today.

            Or maybe not, as there was a mysterious car in his driveway when he left. The car looked vaguely familiar, but Louis wasn’t going to stop and try to figure that out just now. However, he wasn’t quite quick enough as he turned to re-enter his home because his hand was only on the doorknob when a man jumped out of the car.

            “Mr. Tomlinson?”

            “Oh hell,” Louis replied, recognizing the man immediately. It was Ricky, Harry’s driver.

            “Good afternoon,” Ricky greeted, heading towards Louis quickly.

            “What is it?” Louis asked, not wanting to waste time with small talk.

            “It’s Mr. Styles.”

            “Yeah. I figured that. What about him?”

            “He’s in the car. He would like to talk to you.”

            “Yes, well, I am currently headed out, so…”

            “Can I drive you to your destination?”

            “I would prefer you didn’t.”

            “Please. He really needs to speak with you.”

            “And why should I care about his needs when he clearly did not give a shit about mine?”

            “You’re a better person than him.”

            That was true, Louis knew, but damn it, why did Ricky have to point that out? Now he felt the need to get into the car and, wow, he was not ready to see Harry face-to-face yet.

            “I tried to get him to take me back home,” Harry defended as soon as Louis opened the door and slid into the seat.

            “That would have been nice of you to say before I slid my fat ass into the vehicle,” Louis noted, beginning to get out again, but Harry placed his own hand on top of Louis’s, halting him.

            “Stay.”

            “You have issues,” Louis commented.

            “I admitted that,” Harry pointed out.

            “Where are we headed?” Ricky asked. Louis gave him the name of the restaurant and reluctantly closed the car door.

            “How are you?” Harry asked as Ricky began to drive.

            “Fine.”

            “How is Ares?”

            “Good.”

            “Good. I’m glad.”

            A moment of awkward silence fell between them.

            “Why were you just sitting in my driveway?” Louis asked. “And how did you find out where I live?”

            “Sources.”

            “That’s really creepy. Am I being stalked?”

            “No.”

            “Right. Well, anyways, back to my first question. Why were you just sitting out there?”

            “I wanted…needed…to talk to you, but upon arriving, realized that coming without notice would be inappropriate.”

            “Why didn’t you just call like a normal person?”

            Harry was quiet for a moment then.

            “I need to re-activate my phone.”

            “What happened to your phone?”           

            “I forgot to pay the bill, and then got in an argument with an employee at the phone place. He shut it off.”

            Harry’s face remained neutral until Louis let out a snort. He almost smiled then.

            “It’s not funny,” Harry said.

            “It’s hilarious,” Louis disagreed.

            “If you say so.”

            “I do.”

            “Louis, I must tell you…”

            “Yes, Shakespeare..?” Louis prodded after a dramatic pause. The corners of Harry’s mouth twitched up again. Louis almost found himself melting.

            Almost.

            “I’m sorry.”

            “I would hope so.”

            “I’m serious. I acted terribly towards you, and the child…it’s just…”

            Harry’s eyes shifted to the driver real quick and he sighed.

            “I would much rather talk in private. Come home?”

            “That’s not my home, Harry. It never was, not really.”

            Any traces of a smile were wiped from Harry’s face.

            “Because you never planned on staying.”

            “No, because you told me time and time again that it was _your_ place. I was just there, like a usable piece of furniture.”

            “That’s not true. Louis…”

            Harry sighed.

            “Fine. Can we go somewhere private and talk though, soon?”

            “I don’t know, Harry.”

            “This is my kid too.”

            “Oh, is he?!”

            White hot anger lit up in Louis suddenly, and he wondered if it was noticeable because Harry visibly shrunk back a little bit.

            “Please tell me why, besides DNA, he is your kid. You denied him. You made it clear you wanted nothing to do with him.”

            “That’s not really how it was.”

            “Who the hell are you trying to fool?!”

            “Louis, god damn it, I said I wanted to discuss it _privately_!”

            The venom was in Harry’s voice again. Even Ricky glanced in the rear view mirror at him, concern but disdain clear on his face. Harry licked his lips nervously.

            “Sorry.”

            “Ricky, let me out, please.”

            “We’re not even close to the restaurant,” Ricky said.

            “I’ll call a cab.”

            “Louis, don’t be stupid,” Harry said.

            “You know, for once, I’m not being stupid. I stayed and put up with your shit too long. I’m not doing it again, even if for a ten minute car ride. Ricky, please pull over.”

            Reluctantly, Ricky obeyed, but before Louis could even get his seat belt off and the door open, Harry had opened his and was stepping out.

            “What are you doing?!” Louis asked.

            “I’ll take a cab home,” Harry said. “See you later, Louis.”

            Without another word, Harry slammed the door, walking around to the sidewalk, preparing to hail a taxi.

            “Seriously, how did you work for him so long?” Louis asked the other man, who laughed.

            “I’ve been working for him a year and a half shorter than you.”

            “I don’t appreciate your tone, Richard.”

            Ricky laughed. “So on to the restaurant then?”

            “Just a moment,” Louis said, hating himself as he got out of the car. Harry glanced towards him, then away, staring straight ahead and missing as a taxi drove right past him.     

            “Get back in the car,” Louis told him, crossing his arms tight over his chest.

            “I’m fine. Go on, Louis.”

            “You’re going to get yourself mugged or something.”

            “Oh well.”

            “Don’t be an idiot.”

            “I am an idiot.”                                                                                                                      

            “Yes, well maybe try being less of one and get in the car.”

            Finally, Harry looked at Louis again, face blank. “At least let me send checks. I want to support my child.”

            “I’m not after your money, Harry.”

            “I know.”

            “If I tell you to come by my flat around eight o’ clock so we can talk, will you get in the fucking car?”

            “Why would you want to hear what I have to say?”

            “I have no idea,” Louis admitted. “But I’m willing to give you one last chance to redeem yourself. No promises on what the outcome will be, though.”

            From the near distance, there was a flash. Someone had caught on to them.

            “Get in the car,” Harry ordered, hurrying forward and opening the door for Louis before climbing in himself. “Go, Ricky.”

            “Please,” Louis added.

            “Yes. Please.”

            Ricky began driving, all three of them looking out the back window to check if they were being tailed. So far, there was no evidence that they were. Still, Louis was uncomfortable. Maybe it was just the pregnancy paranoia. He hoped so.

            Just to be safe, Ricky took a few purposeful wrong turns and went in circles for a little bit before arriving at the restaurant that they should have been to fifteen or so minutes ago.

            “So are you coming over or not?” Louis asked Harry as he prepared to get out of the car. 

            “Eight o’ clock?”

            “Eight o’ clock.”

            “I’ll be there.”

            “Do you need me to pick you up when you’re finished?” Ricky asked Harry’s former housekeeper.

            “I’m all right,” Louis assured him. “I’ll have one of my friends take me back, thanks.”

***

            Louis’s friends had mixed opinions of the situation when he filled them in. Some told him to stay away from Harry; that he really didn’t have any claim on Ares and was abusive to Louis and needed to stay far away. Others said that he _was_ his father, and he had to come to terms with the major, life-altering event as well and so he deserved a second chance (but only that.) Louis decided to see how that night went and let it play out from there.

            He tried to hide the fact that he was internally having a nervous breakdown.

            Louis’s mom was a little too excited about the fact that Harry was coming to talk, but tried to hide it as she offered support to her son, who assured her that he would rather face him alone. He wasn’t actually sure if that was true or if he just didn’t want his mom to overhear if he said something that turned out to be another mistake.

***

            “Flowers? Really?” Louis asked, pretending he wasn’t stupidly flattered when he answered the door that night to find Harry on the other side with a bouquet of white roses.

            “You liked them that one time that guy sent them to you.”

            “What guy? When?” Louis asked, not recalling having received flowers since Harry had known him.

            “That one guy, _Chad_ , that you met at the beach a couple months after you started working for me, remember?”

            Yes, Louis did remember, now that he was reminded. How Harry had ever remembered, Louis didn’t know because Chad had lasted only two weeks before he’d gotten bored and moved on. Oh well. Louis hadn’t liked him all that much anyway.

            He’d been hung up on someone else.

            “Ah, yes,” Louis spoke, quickly taking the flowers from Harry’s hands. “Well, thank you, I guess.”

            Harry followed as Louis went to the kitchen to find a glass for the roses. Once they were situated on the counter, Louis sighed and turned back to face Harry, wincing as Ares kicked him right in the rib.

            “Are you all right?” Harry asked, and he did look legitimately concerned. It was probably an act.

            “I’m fine,” Louis said. “He likes to kick.”

            Maybe he would be a football player like himself, Louis thought proudly.

            “Oh,” Harry said, eyeing Louis’s stomach oddly. Louis crossed his arms in front of him, like that could possibly cover him.

            “Right. Well, if you don’t mind, I’m going to move this little meeting to the sofa. My feet and back quite hurt, so…”

            “Yes, of course,” Harry said. “Lead the way.”

            Louis did, thanking the universe that Harry made no comment to how slow he was these days.

            “What are we talking about?” Louis asked as he lowered himself down to the sofa. Harry waited until he was completely settled before sitting himself.

            “I want you to come home,” the singer began, “and by that, I mean back with me. I’m sorry that I made you feel like it wasn’t your home too, Louis. I always considered it both of our home.”

            “That’s not what you said.”

            “I say a lot of shit I don’t mean.”

            “Why?”

            “ _Why?_ ”

            Harry looked confused at that.

            “Yes,” Louis said. “Why do you say so much shit you don’t mean?”

            “I don’t know…”

            “Really?”

            “I loved you. You were never going to stay. I get too attached, Louis, and no one ever stays, not even my own parents. Not even my sister. Not _anyone_. I was trying to protect myself. Yes, I went about it completely wrong, but I just couldn’t go through being left alone again by someone I actually cared about.”

            “I was waiting for a reason to stay,” Louis said. “You never gave me one. I waited for a long time, but I couldn’t wait forever.”

            “I’m sorry I kept you waiting for so long,” Harry told him. “Come home and I’ll make it worth it.”

            “I’m going back to England, Harry. You realize everyone in the general public hates me in this country? You realize I’m afraid for my baby’s life because there are so many people desperate to know our business, despite the fact that they think I’m a disgusting, cheating gold-digger? You realize I’ve barely gone anywhere since I’ve left your place?”

            “Our place.”

            “Your place.”

            This argument reminded Louis of another one;

            _“Your baby.”_

_“Our baby.”_

“I’ll make this right,” Harry spoke.

            “How?”

            “You’ll see.”

            Harry looked determined; even a bit manic. Louis was a little frightened, if he was honest.

            “What are you going to do?” he asked.

            “I told you; make this right. Don’t worry about it, Lou, and I’ll see you soon.”

            With that, Harry got to his feet and saw himself out. Louis stayed seated, mouth slightly agape. Unsure why, he snapped it shut, but his head was still spinning. If that wasn’t the most pointless ‘meeting’ of all time, he didn’t know what was.

            Or that’s what he thought, until the next morning.

            “Louis, darling.”

            “Mmph.”

             Louis felt like he was back in his school days, with his mom waking him up, and him desperately trying to tune her out and fall back to sleep. He was never pregnant or this uncomfortable in his school days, but that was another story.

            “I’m sorry to wake you, love, but I think you might want to come downstairs and watch the entertainment news with me.”

            “Why would I want to do that?”

            “Because you’re on it.”

***

            _Dear fans and friends,_ Harry had begun on one of  his many social media accounts, _I’m sorry. I’ve lied to you and in doing so, I made the guy I love look like the bad guy in a situation where only I was wrong. So here is the truth._

_Louis, my former keeper and my only love, is, in fact, pregnant with my child. Deep down, I’ve known this all along. Louis would never be unfaithful. He’s smart; he’s careful, but, in a way, I took advantage and I got both of us into a situation that only I have so far been able to escape unscathed. Or so it seems, but in doing all of this, I hurt myself. More importantly, I hurt Louis. I hurt our unborn child. And I don’t deserve a second chance from anybody, but Louis and the baby deserve to have the truth known. So if you could please give him privacy, safety and comfort in this difficult time and thereafter, it would truly be cherished. Thank you._

_-Harry_

***

            “What the fuck?!”

            Louis was screaming before he even got the door unlocked with the house key he’d never given back to Harry. Harry had better be here, Louis thought to himself. They were going to talk this time. _Really_ talk.

            “What the fuck?” the pregnant man yelled again once he was inside, as a way of announcing his arrival. It didn’t take long for Harry to come out from the kitchen, nibbling on a measly granola bar; no doubt his breakfast. Louis told himself he didn’t care enough to worry about that.

            “Good morning, Louis,” Harry greeted and then, looking at his stomach, “Good morning, Ares. Are you being nice to your dad today?”

            “No,” Louis said, causing Harry to look back at him with one eyebrow raised.

            “Morning sickness still?”

            “No, I mean you’re not going to do that.”

            “Do what?”

            “Act all cute and concerned. What the fuck, Harry?”

            “Is there something you would like to say to me?”

            _So many things._

“What made you think that…that letter was okay?!”

            “It wasn’t?”

            “No! You just told the whole world…”

            “Told them what? The truth? I thought that’s what you wanted?”

            “Not like this!”

            “Why not?”

            “Because…because…”

            Wow, this really wasn’t going well for Louis. He despised his inability to think properly whenever Harry was around.

            But, mostly, he hated Harry.

            “You told me to prove to you that I was serious about being in Ares’s life, and back in yours.”

            “You couldn’t have just _told_ me you were going public?!”

            “We already came to the conclusion that my words mean nothing. It wouldn’t have proven anything.”

            “How could you do this to me?!”

            And, damn it, why was Louis crying?

            “I’m sorry if I did something wrong…again,” Harry spoke. “Tell me how to fix it.”

            “You didn’t do anything wrong!”

            “Then what’s the matter?”

            “I _finally_ came to terms with the fact that it was just going to be Ares and me. I accepted that a happy family of three was too much to dream of. I wrote you off, and then you came back like this and you make me have hope again even though I don’t want to, because all it does is blow up in my face!”

            “It won’t this time,” Harry said, stepping forward and reaching for Louis, who took two steps back.

            “Don’t touch me,” he said, wiping his eyes angrily, and so Harry didn’t. They just stood there (for how long Louis wasn’t sure) while he cried and Harry studied Louis’s body, particularly his belly. It made Louis insecure, which only made him cry harder.

            “Can I touch you?” Harry finally asked.

            “Why?”

            “Because I need to, and I think you need me to as well.”

            “I don’t need anything from you!”

            Harry paused again for just a moment.

            “Can I feel Ares?”

            Louis thought hard about it before giving in. He nodded, and Harry took a tentative step forward, slowly putting his hands on the top of Louis’s bump.

            “He’s so big,” Harry commented.

            “Thanks so much,” Louis replied sarcastically. Harry flushed.

            “I didn’t mean…oh shit, I just meant that I don’t know how an actual human can fit into your tiny body.”

            “My _previously_ tiny body.”

            “No, you’re still little.”

            “You just told me I was fat.”

            “I didn’t! You misunderstood. I worded it wrong. I just…I…You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

            Louis smiled. Harry narrowed his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched up too before he diverted his eyes back to the ball that was his and Louis’s son, his hands sliding down a little.

            “I want him to kick me.”

            “Excuse me, but that quite hurts sometimes.”

            “Does it?” Harry asked, and Louis thought maybe that was his concerned face, but refused to let it get to him.

            “Sometimes,” he replied in a small voice, looking anywhere but at Harry then until Harry tucked a finger underneath the other’s chin and gently turned his head towards him.

            “I’m sorry,” he said, and his voice was softer than Louis had ever heard it before. “I shouldn’t have made you go through all of this alone.”

            “I’m fine,” Louis said, because as badly as he wanted Harry to feel guilty for what he did, he was not one to look for sympathy. He took care of people, not the other way around.

            “Yeah,” Harry said in reply, “you are, but that doesn’t make it right.”

            He rubbed the baby bump gently for a few more moments before sighing and withdrawing his hands.

            “I missed so much,” he said.

            “Yeah, well…”

            “I know. My own fault.”

            Louis didn’t affirm that. Harry knew it already.

            “I don’t know if I can do this,” Louis said finally, panic growing as he felt his resolve for Harry dissipating.

            “Do what?” Harry asked, frowning a bit. And that scared Louis quite a bit.

            “I can’t forget what happened, Harry. Nothing will ever be the same and I can’t go day-to-day not knowing if it’s going to be the day everything falls apart again.”

            “I told you it won’t, Lou. If I could prove it to you, I would, but, unfortunately, I can’t show you the future. You will just have to take my word on this one.”

            “But I can’t.”

            “Lou…I told the truth. What else do you want me to do?”

            “Nothing.”

            “Then why won’t you just let me back in?!”

            “I don’t know, Harry! Because the thought of it is making my heart race and my head get fuzzy and my stomach turn itself inside out, and I don’t think that’s normal!”

            Harry tilted his head, studying Louis. “Those aren’t always negative symptoms, Lou.”

            “Feeling like I’m having a heart attack isn’t negative?!”

            “Love feels like that too.”

            “Love feels like a terrible stomach flu?”

            Harry laughed at that; really laughed. Louis had only heard his laugh a few times before, but, fuck, he’d missed it.

            “It can.”

            “You have had shit experiences with love, haven’t you, Harry?”

            “Yeah,” Harry admitted with another laugh. “A lot of that has been my doing though, particularly with you.”

            “Do I make you want to dry heave too, then?”

            “When you’re not here.”

            “Welcome back, John Green.”

            “I’m serious.”

            “You don’t love me.”

            “Does it make it easier on you if you believe that? Because if so…if you really don’t want me around, if you will really be better off if I never make contact again, then I’ll respect that. I’ll leave you alone, but only if that’s what you really want.”

            “I don’t know what I want.”

            Harry waited, biting his lip. Louis sighed.

            “Yeah, leave me alone.”

            He saw Harry’s shoulders droop and felt guilty, but he had to think of himself right now.

            “At least for a little while,” he added, not wanting to make anything too final yet. “Let me think without you right there. Let me try to forget you, and if I can’t, I’ll come back. If I can…”

            Harry blinked a few times, rapidly, but his eyes were dry and his face neutral when he spoke again.

            “All right then,” he said before turning and heading slowly, elegantly, up the stairs. He was so obnoxious.

            Louis loved him.

            “Fuck,” Louis whispered to himself, angrily wiping a stray tear as he turned too and headed out of the house, potentially for the last time.

***

            Louis didn’t try to forget Harry. He knew that would only backfire and make him think of Harry more. And there were times he forgot about Harry anyway, or at least didn’t have him on the forefront of his mind, but every time he laid down in his squeaky bed that wasn’t even really his, his former flame was back. Louis wanted him beside him and, even though he tried to tell himself that he was just lonely, he knew that wasn’t it because he didn’t long for just anyone to kiss him and tell him they loved him and rub his sore back until he fell asleep. He longed for Harry.

            It had only been two weeks, though, he reasoned with himself as he lay in bed, trying and failing to put his miserable body and mind to sleep. Two weeks wasn’t enough time to forget someone who he’d loved so much-and who had, in turn, ripped his heart out. He would get over him, eventually, he knew he would…

            But he didn’t want to anymore. Maybe he never did.

            Letting out a small, pitiful cry that Louis would deny if anyone ever asked, he moved just enough to reach his phone on the nightstand and find Harry’s number. He wondered if his phone had been turned back on yet, and his heart kind of sunk at the thought that maybe it didn’t. Apparently it had been, though, because it rang and rang until a gruff voice, pulled from sleep, answered.

            “‘Lo? Lou?”

            “Harry.”

            Louis’s voice was far more pathetic than even that simple cry had been. He almost hung up.

            “Louis? What’s wrong? Is it Ares?”

            “Yes. Well, no, but…yes.”

            “…What?”

            “I can’t sleep,” Louis sighed. “I love this child, I do, but he keeps kicking and I have heartburn and false contractions and my feet hurt even though I’m laying down and I can’t breathe on my back but laying on my side hurts and I just want this to be over.”

            “One more month, Lou,” Harry said, though he sounded sympathetic. “Until then, can I help?”

            “I doubt it. I don’t even know why I called…”

            (That was kind of a lie.)

            “I’m glad you did.”

            “Liar. It’s one thirty in the morning and I woke you up.”

            “Yeah, but I’m still glad you did.”

            “Sing to me.”

            “Sing to you?”

            “Yeah. Maye if Ares hears a lullaby, he’ll go to sleep and then I can sleep.”

            “Umm…okay. Any special requests?”

            “Your choice.”

            “Okay.”

            Harry deliberated for a moment and then began to sing the song that Louis had heard in the studio; the love song that Harry claimed was for him.

            Louis started crying.

            Louis was a pregnancy stereotype.

            “Are you…?” Harry began.

            “Yes! I’m always crying!” Louis exclaimed.

            “Well…did the song calm Ares down?”

            “Maybe,” Louis said. The baby seemed settled for now.

            “Do you feel better?”

            “No.”

            “Do you want me there?”

            _Yes._

            “No.”

            _Yes_.

            Louis sighed.

            “Yes.”

            “I’ll be right there.”

***

            It took Harry quite a long time, and Louis was starting to think he wasn’t going to show up after all, but maybe that was a good thing because Louis didn’t think about having to get up to let him in. Or the fact that the doorbell would probably wake his mom. Wonderful.

            After a while, he received a text from Harry saying that he was at the door, so perhaps he didn’t know how to use the doorbell like a normal person. Louis was discovering that Harry didn’t know how to ‘human’ very well. Oh well, that took care of the waking mom issue. Now was just the problem of Louis getting up.

            _Be there eventually_ , he messaged Harry back, and proceeded to lay there for a few moments before actually getting up and waddling to the door. Harry smiled at him, only a tiny bit, when Louis answered the door, and he had a couple of grocery bags in his hand.

            “Sorry it took so long,” he apologized. “I stopped at the store.”

            “I see that.”

            “It’s not much,” Harry said, gesturing awkwardly. “Just something for heartburn and a heating pad…and some ice cream and bath stuff, but if you don’t want any of it, it’s totally fine.”

            “What kind of ice cream?” Louis asked, eyes narrowed. Harry shifted on the balls of his feet.

            “Triple fudge brownie.”

            “I think I just had an orgasm.”

            Harry’s eyes widened in shock before he laughed so hard he snorted. Louis couldn’t help but to smile.

            “You are allowed entrance,” he said, stepping back.

            “There’s one more thing in the car,” Harry told him as he entered the house. “Where would you like me to set these?”

            “I’ll take them,” Louis said.

            “Are you sure?”

            “I’m pregnant and whiny, Harry, but I’m not completely useless.”

            Harry handed over the bags without another word on that subject. Maybe he was learning.

            “I’ll be right back,” he said before hurrying back to his car. Louis took the stuff to his room after going to the kitchen to grab a spoon for his ice cream, which he was planning on eating from the carton, thank you, and by the time he was situated, Harry had returned carrying a huge…something soft.

            “What the hell?” Louis wondered aloud.

            “It’s a body pillow,” Harry explained.

            “That…is possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my life.”

            Harry gave a huff of a laugh, probably leery of snorting again, and laid it on Louis’s bed as Louis got into the most comfortable position he could to begin eating his treat.

            “Would you like some water to take your medicine with?” Harry asked.

            “Oh. Yeah. The chocolate distracted me,” Louis said, shoving a chunk into his mouth and trying to not let his eyes roll back in his head. Harry looked amused, so maybe he hadn’t been successful.

            “I’ll get right on that,” he said, and disappeared again.

            After Louis was drugged up and had eaten what was probably technically enough ice cream, Harry plugged in his heating pad while Louis got comfortable with the body pillow. And then, because it was impossible for Louis to be in position with the body pillow and keep the heating pad on his aching back, Harry held it in place for him. Louis actually moaned.

            “Feel better?”

            “Yes,” he said, and then gasped as Ares decided to kick, softer than the other times, but still noticeable.

            “What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

            “He’s kicking,” Louis explained, reaching back for one of Harry’s hands. They laced their fingers together awkwardly and then Louis brought Harry’s hand to his stomach, where he’d just felt the tiny foot nudge him.

            “I don’t think he wants me to feel,” Harry said once a couple minutes had passed and nothing had happened.

            “Wait a minute.”

            Harry did. Finally, Ares gave another small nudge; so small that Louis thought maybe Harry wouldn’t feel, but then he sucked in a breath, his hand rubbing the part where Ares had just moved.

            “Did you feel it?” Louis asked.

            “Yeah, I did. That was…that was amazing.”

            Harry sounded absolutely awestruck and Louis wished he could see his face, but he was too tired to look back. Besides, if he did, he might do something stupid, like kiss him.

            “You can keep your hand there,” he allowed when Harry started to slowly pull away.

            “Your heating pad is slipping,” Harry said. “Unless…can I try something? And if you don’t like it, tell me and I’ll stop.”

            “Okay…”

            Harry was still for only a few seconds before he readjusted the heating pad and then laid down, pressing his body to Louis’s to hold it in place while his arm snaked underneath the pregnant man’s arm to rest across his belly.

            “Is this okay?” he asked.

            “Mmm…,” Louis replied, already mostly asleep. He thought he felt Harry place a gentle kiss to the back of his neck before finally drifting off.

***

            It had been a long time since Louis had woken up in Harry’s arms. Actually, he had never really woken up in Harry’s arms. The times they had shared a bed, Louis still woke up on the other side, wrapped in blankets but nothing else. This time, it appeared that neither had changed position at all during the night, and Louis felt better rested than he had in a while.

            Carefully rolling over, Louis discovered that Harry was asleep, and he looked peaceful too, if a bit crammed. Louis giggled. It wasn’t a loud noise, but it still woke Harry, who opened and shut his eyes a few times before finally keeping them open and smiling sleepily at the other man.

            “Was I snoring?” he asked.

            “I don’t think so.”

            “Oh. I thought that’s why you were laughing at me.”

            “I wasn’t laughing at you.”

            “Uh-huh.”

            Louis sat up, causing Harry’s arms to fall flat onto the bed beside him. He rolled onto his back and crossed them over his chest, but met eyes with Louis again.

            “How did you sleep?”

            “Fine.”

            “Good. Are you hungry?”

            “Yes, but I’m not letting you cook for me.”

            “Good because I wasn’t offering,” Harry replied with a wink. Louis flicked his nose.

            “Good morning, boys!” Louis’s mother said cheerfully as she entered the room without so much as a knock, making both of them jump, guilt filling both of their faces even though they had no reason to feel guilty. They hadn’t done anything and even if they had, they were both grown men.

            Louis was a grown man living with his mother. He hated his life.

            “Would anyone care for some breakfast?”

            “We were just discussing that,” Harry said after a long, awkward pause. “Um…I’m Harry, by the way.”

            “I know,” the woman replied. “And I’m Jay, Louis’s mum.”

            “It’s…nice to meet you.”

            “You too, dear.”

            Though his mom’s voice remained sweet enough, Harry was clearly uncomfortable with this situation. Louis was glad. He liked watching him squirm.

            “Breakfast would be great, mum, thanks,” Louis said with a too-big smile. “Harry will be joining us too.”

            “Great! I’ll get started.”

            The boys watched as she headed back to the kitchen, and then Harry whipped his head back towards Louis.

            “She hates me, doesn’t she?”

            “My mum doesn’t hate people.”

            “But she can’t think fondly of me.”

            “Probably not,” Louis admitted. Harry swallowed. “If we’re going to do this, you have to face the backlash, love.”

            “If we’re going to do this?”

            “This is your second chance, Harry. Don’t fuck up.”

***

            Clearly, Harry was determined not to ‘fuck up,’ a little too much because it was almost ridiculous how hard he was trying to make things right. He talked to Louis’s mother non-stop, cleaned up all the dishes and then the rest of the house as well. (Louis had great fun telling him the windows didn’t look quite clean enough until he’d scrubbed them down three times.) He bought them all lunch, and then dinner too, and asked Louis how he was feeling about eighteen times.

            And Louis loved it.

            Harry spent the night again. Louis’s mom left to give them privacy, which she was not secretive about, much to the boys’ embarrassment. It was nice, though. Louis took a bath with the bubbles that Harry had purchased the previous night and then cuddled up on the couch to watch a movie with Harry, which he didn’t even last fifteen minutes into. When he woke up, he was being carried to bed.

            “Gonna break your back,” he muttered.

            “Nope,” Harry disagreed, shoving Louis’s door all the way opened with his back before entering and laying Louis gently on his side by his body pillow, which Louis wrapped himself around like a koala.

            “Do you need the heating pad?” the singer asked.

            “I’m good right now,” Louis said.

            “Okay.”

            Harry left the room and Louis wanted to shout out and ask what he was doing, but refrained. He was back soon anyway, in night clothes that he’d run home to grab earlier while getting dinner. When he crawled over Louis and placed a kiss on his cheek, his smelled like toothpaste. Louis sighed.

            “Maybe we’ll go back to yours tomorrow so we have a bigger bed,” he said. Harry stilled.

            “Really?” he asked after a moment.

            “I said maybe.”

            “Thank you, Louis.”

            “For what?”

            “Giving me another chance. I know I don’t deserve it.”

            “I did it for selfish reasons. I decided I wanted you.”

            “I don’t know how or why, but I’m glad you did.”

            “This is a test run. No promises yet.”

            “I know. You never have to promise me anything, but I promise I’ll always be here for you and Ares, no matter what.”

***

            Louis and Harry went back to Harry’s after going to lunch the next day. They were photographed, they both knew it, and Louis was nervous, but Harry squeezed his hand gently and gave a subtle nod; his way of silently assuring Louis that everything would be okay. Somehow, he believed him.

            Harry was still trying hard to not mess anything up, Louis knew, but it seemed less forced and frantic now. He seemed to mean it when he asked Louis how he was feeling, and got genuinely worried when Louis ‘overdid it’ which sometimes even meant him getting up too often to go to the bathroom. He gave him back massages and sang the unborn child lullabies when he was feeling restless. Using google, he sort of learned to cook a few dishes. (He didn’t burn the place down at least.) He even tried to give Louis foot massages but Louis was having none of that. He wanted to keep a shred of independence. And, also, his swollen feet were so not hot.

***

            “Two weeks.”

            Louis didn’t know how he’d let that slip his mind until he checked his phone and saw the date, but he dramatically, yet understandably dropped the spoon he was using to eat his cereal with when he did.

            “Sorry?” Harry asked, looking at Louis over his cup of morning coffee.

            “Two weeks until Ares is due.”

            Setting down his mug, Harry smiled. “You’re excited though, aren’t you?”

            “Harry, we have nothing done!” Louis replied frantically. “Ares doesn’t have a room! His crib isn’t set up! His dresser is still in a box! His clothes are in a bag at the rental place!”

            “He has a room. That spare bedroom is his, remember?”

            “Yes, but it’s not done! Our child is going to have plain white walls and beige carpets like he’s in a god damn insane asylum!”

            Harry shook his head, a amused smile on his face. Louis wanted to cry, but was actually able to fight it that time.

            “Come here,” Harry said, standing.

            “I’m eating,” Louis said.

            “Fine. Finish your cereal and then come here.”

            “Actually, I’m too stressed to eat. What is it?”

            “I’ll show you.”

            Harry had walked around the table and held out a hand for Louis to take, which he did. Moving at just the perfect pace, Harry led him upstairs and into the spare bedroom, which could no longer be considered as such. Louis’s mouth dropped open.

            “Harry…when…why…how…?

            The walls were a dark blue now, with all of the planets stenciled onto the wall. The carpet was gray and the ceiling the standard white with glow-in-the-dark stars plastered there. Ares’s crib was up and adorned with a lighter blue blanket set. His dresser was put together as well, and a lava lamp sat atop of it, begging to be turned on (and the regular lamp was in the shape of a sun; a moon nightlight plugged into the wall near the crib.) The room was, to put it simply, amazing.

            “I always hoped you would come back,” Harry said. “Maybe I hoped a little too much.”

            “Harry, it’s perfect.”

            “You really like it?”

            “I do. You know, I never even asked you; do you _like_ the name Ares?”

            “I love it. By chance, do you have a middle name?”

            “I was thinking Quentin.”

            “Quentin. Ares Quentin Tomlinson. I like it.”

            “Do you like Ares Quentin Tomlinson-Styles?”

            Harry’s eyes widened. “Really?”

            “Yeah. I think he looks like a Tomlinson-Styles.”

            “But…you haven’t seen him.”

            “I can tell from his ultrasound.”

            “Oh, can you now?” Harry asked, positively beaming.

            “Yep.”

            Putting his arms around Louis’s middle, Harry pulled him gently closer, smile still on his face.

            “I love you, Louis.

            “Oh god,” Louis sighed. “I may be an idiot, but I love you too, Harry. So much.”

            They stared at each other for what should have been a weird amount of time, but it wasn’t weird for them. They seemed to be reading each other’s minds; both of them preparing for a kiss. Harry went for it first, but Louis didn’t lean back, and made a throaty noise when their lips met. He wasn’t ashamed.

            “And I love you too, little Ares!” Harry cooed once they had broken apart, bending down to kiss Louis’s stomach. Louis burst into tears then, startling Harry.

            “Louis…what-”

            “I take it back!” Louis cried, turning from Harry and waddling fiercely from the room. “I actually hate you!”

            Harry giggled, but followed Louis out, being respectful enough to not catch up in half a second, but to let Louis get about fifty feet away from his old bedroom before pulling him into his arms, spinning him around and giving him another, longer, kiss.

***

            Pain. All Louis could feel was pain and a little bit of fear when he woke up at twelve after three the next morning. He knew this pain from the last time he’d almost given birth to Ares; back when it was way too early. It was still early, but not too early, and so he moved just enough to poke Harry in the arm roughly a few times.

            “Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry.”

            “Hmm? Wuzzit?” he asked, rubbing his eyes hard to pull himself from slumber.

            “Hospital,” Louis said.

            Harry was out of bed in an instant.

***

            Though they didn’t think so at the time, the car ride there was pretty ridiculous, with Harry telling Louis to just take breaths, and then demonstrating what he deemed the correct way to do this was while Louis just screamed at him to drive faster; that it felt like Ares was about to pop out right onto the backseat where he was sprawled.

            Louis had heard horror stories about long, excruciating labors, and he supposed he should be grateful that he didn’t have one, but he would have liked a little more time to prepare. His mom had barely had time to arrive and ask how Louis was doing before it was time to push.

            “STOP SAYING THAT WORD! I’M PUSHING!” Louis cried to the doctor, squeezing Harry’s hand so hard that he heard a finger or two pop. “I’m sorry!” he said then, tears streaming down his face.

            “It’s okay. I’m fine. Keep pu-…keep going, babe, you’re doing great!”

            “I’m doing terrible! I’m crying!”

            “That’s completely normal, and you are doing great, I promise.”

            “Why didn’t I get an epidural?!”

            “There wasn’t any time.”

            “Ares hates me! He’s not even in this world yet and he hates me!”

            “He doesn’t hate you.”

            “It hurts!”

            “Mr. Tomlinson,” the doctor interrupted. “I’m going to need you to push.”

            “DON’T SAY THAT WORD!” Harry and Louis both shouted at the same time.

            “I’m so sorry,” Louis heard his mom say quietly to the doctor, but he didn’t even have time to chastise her for it because after one last surge of effort, pressure was suddenly lifted from his body and less than a second later, he heard a small cry and then a very, very loud scream.

            “My baby!” Louis gasped, leaning his head up and looking frantically to the doctor, who immediately laid the baby down on his chest.

            “He’s definitely your baby all right,” Louis’s mom teased, rubbing her ears, but she was smiling and had tears in her eyes.

            “He’s so gorgeous,” Louis said with a sniffle, kissing the child on top of the head despite the fact that he still had afterbirth on him. He thought he might have heard Harry gag and would have laughed if he wasn’t so damn tired.

            “Hold him, Harry!” Louis cooed, unable to take his eyes off of their messy creation.

            “Um…can we towel him off first?” Harry asked. Almost immediately, the baby was wiped off and then Harry picked him off of Louis, looking pale and terrified, but full of life as well.

            “He really is amazing,” he commented.

            “I love him,” Louis announced.

            “We love you too,” Harry said. Louis smiled and leaned his head back, resting his eyes for only a moment. He couldn’t keep them closed long, needing to see Ares; needing to see Harry. Needing to see his family.

***

            “Is he asleep?”

            “Yes. Finally.”

            Harry sighed, exhausted, as he collapsed in bed next to Louis, who giggled and ruffled his boyfriend’s curls. (And it was official this time; they were boyfriends.)

            “I told you to just let me get him to bed. He behaves for me.”

            “It’s been two months and I still can’t figure out how to get my own child to sleep,” Harry sighed. “What’s your secret?”

            “I’m just magic, baby,” Louis said, crawling on top of Harry and straddling his back as he leaned down to press kisses into the side of his neck. Harry gasped.

            “Lou…are we doing this?”

            “You look stressed,” Louis said. “I know a good way to relieve that. Besides, my hard work at the gym is paying off and I love you enough to let you experience that firsthand. There are just two conditions this time.”

            “Yes?”

            “One, we use a condom. Two, you’re on bottom.”

            Harry agreed on those conditions. They were being safe, and Louis felt confident that nothing extreme was going to happen this time.

            That was, until he opened a condom from the same box and found a hole in it. But it was probably just that one condom, right? There was no way there could be two defective condoms in the same package…

***

            “Babe, we’re home, and Ares made a present for you in the car on the way!” Louis announced cheerfully as he set down his three-and-a-half month old’s car seat on the ground and lifted him. “Harry, seriously, it’s your turn for diapering!”

            Technically, it was Louis’s turn for a poopy diaper, but he had had a stressful morning, what with the meeting he had with one of Harry’s agent friends. Ares hadn’t come along, of course, but had stayed with Louis’s mom, who was living in the area indefinitely and couldn’t get enough of her grandson.

            “Harry?”

            Louis was starting to get worried now. It wasn’t like Harry not to answer him, even when the subject was a dirty diaper. So Louis began searching, eventually finding Harry, bags under his eyes and sweat on his face, in the bathroom by the toilet, looking like he might spill his insides at any moment.

            “Jesus, babe, you look terrible,” Louis said, holding Ares on one hip while reaching out to feel Harry’s forehead with his free hand.

            “I don’t have a fever,” Harry told him, swallowing hard. Louis backed up a little.

            “Is it something you ate?”

            “You did this to me.”

            “What?”

            Harry sighed, and then froze, half leaning towards the toilet before deciding that he was okay for now and turning back to Louis.

            “I am…with child.”

            Louis’s eyes widened, and he stared at Harry in shock before he regained composure and smiled.

            “Aww, babe, I love you so much,” he said, voice abnormally sweet, “but I must say…karma’s a bitch.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm nervous about this, because I feel like I strayed from the original prompt, but I got carried away. I hope you like it anyway, my lovely requester (not mentioning your name right now because I forgot to ask if you wanted me to!)
> 
> If you have any prompts for me, you can leave them [here!](http://it-hurts-doesnt-it.tumblr.com/)


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